












h. 


The 

Unpardonable Sin 


BY 

GLADYS BRACE VILSACK 


BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 
835 BROADWAY, 

NEW YORK 




CHAPTER I. 


Who stole the jewels at Dr. Cleverton^s house- 
party ? 

It was not so much this question that people were 
asking themselves. They were wondering why 
Mrs. Cleverton would neither allow detectives to be 
employed on the case nor any of her servants to be 
dismissed. 

It is bad enough to lose one’s jewelry, but it is an- 
other thing when one is not permitted to have the 
loss investigated. 

This morning, even Dr. Cleverton was asking him- 
self why his wife should act so strangely. He sat at 
his desk, his head in his hands, thinking over his 
past life, trying to put two and two together, but 
to imagine anything to his precious wife’s detri- 
ment, would have been impossible for this honorable 
man. 

This man, who had at his command a vast fortune, 
which he might have squandered in the many ways 
known to wealthy young heirs, had preferred to give 
the greater part of his income to charitable pur- 
poses and never lost sight of those beings who were 
less fortunate than himself. In fact, before his mar- 
riage, he had spent most of his time in the districts 
of New York where a doctor is most needed, but 
cannot be paid for. 


1 


2 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


It was in such a locality he had first seen his wife. 
Day after day he had passed her on the street and it 
made him shudder to see a young girl so evidently 
in a condition of poverty and neglect. 

In those days, she had not been really beautiful. 
In fact, he had scarcely noticed her looks at all. He 
only knew that she possessed two large startling 
black eyes set in a shrunken little face and that she 
did not seem to belong to the squalid surroundings 
in which he always saw her. Even after he had re- 
turned home in the evenings, the pitiful half-starved 
look from her beautiful eyes would haunt him, and 
he could picture in his mind, the droop of her long 
lashes on her cheek at his approach. 

He had been almost afraid to speak to this shy 
creature. Finally, one day he had stopped her and 
tried to draw her into conversation with him. Then, 
indeed, she had been very shy and had answered 
him in monosyllables, but as time went on, she had 
grown more accustomed to him and lost much of 
her timidity. 

One day, when Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Hubbs, his 
care-takers, had come to the city to see him on busi- 
ness pertaining to his country-home, he had asked 
them if they would take this girl under their care for 
awhile. They had seemed very willing, for they 
were childless, and life in the country must be very 
lonesome at times. 

He had made it a point to meet her the next day 
to ask her whether she would like to have a vacation 
in the country. He smiled to himself as he pictured 
how she had blushed and trembled. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


3 


‘‘Why, sir,” she had replied in a low voice, “you 
are too kind to me.” 

“Well, then, if you really want to go,” he had 
said very gently, “take me to your parents and I 
will ask their permission.” 

The girl had turned sadly to him. 

“I have no parents,” she had answered with a tre- 
mor in her voice, “I'm an orphan. I can do as I 
please.” 

“Surely there is someone,” he had insisted, “who 
has authority over you. I can’t snatch you from the 
street and carry you away. I’d be arrested for kid- 
napping.” 

“No,” the girl protested, “I work for my keep and 
if you don’t mind, sir. I’ll meet you here to-morrow, 
prepared to go.” 

So, on the morrow he had come for her and found 
her with a queer little bundle under her arm, which 
contained all she posessed in the world. He had put 
her into his machine and watched her go away su- 
premely happy. He had not laid eyes on her until 
the following summer. 

The remainder of the winter and spring had found 
him working hard and it was not until the sun was 
scorching the dried-up crust of the earth, that he 
had found time to take advantage of the luxuries of 
his country estate. Even after he had set up his 
permanent abode there, it was quite awhile before 
he came face to face with Mr. and Mrs. Hubb’s little 
visitor, for he had been kept busy with a house full 
of guests. He remembered the shock that passed 
through him at his first meeting with her. She had 
ripened into an exquisitely beautiful slip of a girl. 


4 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


He remembered distinctly every hour that he had 
spent with her that summer in the big house. By 
fall, he had asked her to marry him. He laughed to 
himself when he thought how they had slipped away 
quietly, leaving everybody to guess where she had 
come from. 

He recalled those wonderful days of their honey- 
moon which they spent in Italy and how she had 
been almost overcome by the beauties of landscape 
of which she had never dreamed. She had been just 
like a little child with a new toy. Then their home- 
coming; the tears came into his eyes when he re- 
membered how hard she had tried to be a good wife 
to him and to learn how a woman in her station of 
life should act. But she had more than fulfilled his 
expectations and had played the part of wife, mis- 
tress and social helper in a way that seemed born in 
her. It must have been very hard, though, for the 
only education she had received had been a few years 
in the public school. He knew she must have stud- 
ied secretly, after she was married. Three years be- 
fore she had presented him with a beautiful little 
daughter. To-day after four years of married life, 
he was more in love with his wife than he had ever been 
before. 

He knew that a beautiful woman stands in dan- 
ger of the world’s tongue and he also knew that at 
present, the world had some excuse for talking. He 
could pay to a certain extent to have the matter 
which was worrying him now hushed up, but would 
anything in God’s world keep women from talking? 

He had never fully appreciated the fortune left 
him at his father’s death, until he had married. Be- 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


5 


fore that, he had rather scorned spending money 
made by another man. But after his marriage, he 
had seen the luxuries it could bring his wife and 
child. Now, he could not be thankful enough for it. 
It also gave him a chance to leave the mercenary 
side entirely out of his profession. To-day he was 
finding that money could not buy everything and he 
was puzzled to know just how to clear the mystery 
which had surrounded his house. 

It had all happened this way. It was the habit 
of his wife and himself to ask a number of guests 
during the summer months to spend the week-end 
with them. They usually had a very gay time for 
the country about afforded unusual advantages to 
those who were fond of out-door sports. There were 
delightful cross-country rides, strenuous tennis 
matches or golf at the country club for ones who 
preferred it. On Saturdays, the Cleverton^s threw 
open the doors of their wonderful home and invited 
all the neighboring folk for dinner and dancing in 
the evening. These dances had become the talk of 
the surrounding country side. The house stood on 
a high hill, overlooking a forest of beautiful trees of 
every kind, and on these nights the faint strains from 
the orchestra could be heard for a great distance. 

Cleverhill was indeed a wonderful home, sur- 
rounded by six hundred acres. It stood like a cas- 
tle on the Rhine on the top of a bluff, which sloped 
in deep descent to a river far below it. The house 
was built of white stone in rambling fashion and the 
grounds were terraced except where a smooth 
white road wound itself around to the door of the 
mansion. 


6 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


^The preceding two weeks the Doctor and his wife 
had, as usual, entertained house parties and among 
the guests there had been notably people of wealth 
and distinction. On the last two Saturday nights, 
after the dancing was over and everyone had retired 
and was sleeping soundly, the guests in the house 
had been mysteriously robbed of all their jewels. 
Of course, the blame had been laid upon the ser- 
vants, for everyone felt sure that had anyone come 
in from the outside, there would have been some 
signs of intrusion. It was just as if an invisible 
hand had swooped down and snatched up the jew- 
ely for not a sign could be found of where it had 
disappeared to. 

Dr. Cleverton, who was everywhere honored and 
respected highly, had asked all the parties concerned 
to keep as quiet as possible about the matter and 
had not only offered, but insisted that everyone 
should be re-imbursed for what they had lost. All 
would have been well had not his wife refused to 
bring detectives into the case. She would have 
been the last person upon whom the slightest ray 
of suspicion would have fallen, but it just took this 
little thing to start the ball rolling and the Doctor 
wondered how long it would be before she would 
become the victim of her own folly. He knew that 
at last their friends were seeking out the skeleton 
in their family cupboard. 

He was very tired of thinking this morning and 
straightening himself up in his chair in a decisive 
way, came to the conclusion that he had better have 
a serious talk with his wife. He was startled when 
he turned his head to find her standing in the door- 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


7 


way. She must have noticed his appearance of ab- 
ject misery, for she came forward and, putting her 
arms around him, said, “Tom, dear, what are you 
worrying about? This is not a bit like you and it 
makes me very sad.” 

He decided to be frank with her. He drew her 
onto his knee and told her very gently of what a pre- 
carious position she had placed them in and how 
much he would like to bring someone there to catch 
the guilty person. 

But she only shook her head and said, “No, no, 
I will not have those horrid detectives wandering 
about my beautiful home. I shall go away to the 
city if you do this thing. I will not be bothered 
with such men.” 

“But, dearest,” her husband replied, “you would 
not have to be bothered with them. You might 
never know they were here.” 

“I know,” she answered, “but that is worse. It is 
I like something creeping up one^s back and I will 
! not stay if you bring detectives into this matter.” 

“It is only for your sake, dear. I cannot bear to 
have suspicion fall upon you and you know,” he 
said, tenderly kissing her, “when a person is as beau- 
tiful as you, God help her if the women get a chance 
to talk.” 

She laughed and then turned to him very se- 
[riously. 

“Tom, dear,” she said, “you don’t suspect me of 
having stolen the jewels, do you? I have every- 
thing I want, why should I rob my guests ?” 

He shuddered at the thought of such a thing. 

“Alma,” he replied, “I know you wouldn’t steal a 


8 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


common pin, so never fear again of me thinking of 
such a thing. Always remember, whatever might 
happen, that I shall have faith in you for I know you 
to be the most truthful, honest and trustworthy wo- 
man in the whole world. Come what may, nothing 
will ever turn me against you.” 

For a moment they hung in each other’s embrace. 
This woman knew that her husband was worth his 
weight in gold. 

“Dear,” she said, after a moment, “I dread to think 
of the party that is coming this week-end. Why 
not play off sick? Mrs. Ralph Stotesbury and Mrs. 
Eugene Houghton will be here and each of them 
will try to outshine the other in the number of jew- 
els they wear. You know with this thing hanging 
over our head, we shall never feel at ease. It will 
pretty nearly put me into my grave.” 

The Doctor shook his head. 

“It would not be well for us to call the party off 
It might cause talk. It would be better for us to 
let them come here and to try to keep our eyes 
open.” 

“Yes” said Mrs. Cleverton, “I shall never sleep 
while they are here. I mean to take the matter into 
my own hands.” 

The Doctor said nothing but for once in his life he 
intended to deceive his wife. He had full intentions 
of employing the smartest, craftiest and cleverest 
detectives that money could pay for. 


CHAPTER II. 


Friday was ushered in with the intense heat 
which is customary in the middle of July and Mrs. 
Cleverton, rising early, felt that the party coming 
this day, was going to be a great drag on her. After 
the luxury of a cool bath and a delicious breakfast, 
she felt in very much better condition. She hastily 
dressed in a simple little gown of white, bare at the 
neck and arms and throwing on a large Gainsbor- 
ough hat to take the place of a sunshade, started 
for a ramble through the woods. 

Alma Cleverton's actual beauty was not so extra- 
ordinary that everyone was struck by it, but her 
presence and affluence were irresistible. She was 
fashioned like the picture of a lovely Italian peasant 
girl, slender and not too tall to be graceful. Her 
greatest charm lay in the mysterious depths of her 
dark soul-stirring eyes. And she had a heart! A 
heart overflowing with pity and sympathy for any- 
one who was unhappy or in trouble. Alas! there 
are few of us now-a-days who can boast of such an 
organ. But she was lovely as flashes of lightning 
and tender as a little child, while her capacity for 
love and power of deep vibrant emotion, intoxicated 
all who had the opportunity to know her well. 

She had been so happy during her married life and 
9 


10 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


she wondered as she strolled along under the trees 
this morning whether all her great happiness was 
going to be swept away by the dark cloud which 
threatened to engulf her. She chided herself in- 
wardly for worrying so much and determined to try 
and regain her buoyant spirits. 

When she came near to her house again, she could 
see the white dress of her little girl flitting to and 
fro. She idolized this baby of hers and would have 
given anything in the world to send the nurse away 
and take entire charge of the little one herself. In 
fact, she had often threatened to do so but in the 
end, had given up what would have been the great- 
est pleasure in life, to keep her place in the society 
to which her husband’s family for generations had 
belonged. 

When the little girl saw her mother coming, she 
left the nurse and running to her, jumped into her 
arms, crying, “Mudder, mudder, is you going to 
stay wif me?” 

The tears came to Mrs. Cleverton’s eyes. It had 
only been for the past few days that her little girl 
had been able to say “Mother.” Before she had 
always called her “Mama.” This morning every- 
thing seemed to make Mrs. Cleverton sad and she 
even felt reluctant to leave her child, when her tiny 
wrist watch told her that it was nearly noon and 
that some of her guests were liable to arrive any 
time. She was becoming morbid. This would never 
do. She left the little one hastily and hurried to 
the house. She did not expect those of her guests 
who were married, until late in the afternoon when 
they would probably motor up with their husbands. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


11 


but she was also expecting a party of four young 
folks and she knew that they had nothing in the 
world to do but have a good time so they would 
most likely come early. 

Just as she reached the veranda, she could see a 
machine entering the gates a half mile below and 
she saw the dear fat Mrs. Hubbs come onto her 
little porch and scrutinize its occupants, before she 
would permit the chauffeur to drive any further. 
The poor soul would never allow anyone to go past 
her little door until she made sure they were not 
bandits or cut-throats. It was a good thing in a 
way to be particular, but Mrs. Cleverton hardly 
knew whether Mrs. Hubbs did it from a sense of 
duty or curiosity. Still, Mrs. Cleverton, loved Mr. 
and Mrs. Hubbs dearly. When she had come to 
them five years before, a poor little thing, friendless 
and fearful, they had treated her as kindly as though 
she were their own child and she had never forgot- 
ten it. To this day, she loved more than anything 
to go down and have a cup of tea in their tiny 
kitchen. 

She felt tired and warm from her long walk but 
she decided she had better bid the young people wel- 
come, before she retired to her own room to brush 
up a little bit. She stood on the porch and watched 
them as they drove up under the porte cochere; a 
merry group, bubbling over with mirth and good 
spirits. They made as much noise as a bunch of 
geese quacking, as they jumped out of the car and 
came forward to meet her, everyone chattering as 
fast as they could. 

“You old darling,” cried Miss Doris Reese, throw- 




THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


ing her arms around Mrs. Cleverton and squeezing 
her as hard as she could. “We thought we’d come 
early. I hope we haven’t put you out any.” 

“You know we don’t want you to bother a bit 
about us,” replied Miss Miriam Whitman, pushing 
Miss Doris away and kissing her hostess again and 
again. “We’ll make ourselves at home and try to 
be model visitors.” 

They all laughed merrily, and Mr. Dick D’Lan- 
son, who Mrs. Cleverton had known for a couple of 
years, shook hands heartily with her and introduced 
the other gentleman, Mr. Robert Green, “who,” said 
Mr. D’Lanson, “had come along with them because 
Dr. Cleverton’s machine would be too crowded that 
afternoon.” 

“Well, we’re mighty glad he did,” broke in Miss 
Doris, “he entertained us the whole way out. I 
wish I’d met him a long time ago.” 

Mr. Green blushed. 

“I’m sorry to intrude upon your hospitality, Mrs. 
Cleverton,” he said in a gentle, well-bred voice, “but 
I happened to meet the Doctor, who I’ve known for 
a long time, and he insisted upon me coming out 
here. I was most delighted to accept his invita- 
tion.” 

“Don’t mention it,” answered Mrs. Cleverton 
pleasantly, “I’m so glad to see you all. I’ve had the 
blues lately and I think you folks are just the ones 
to cure me.” 

“I must say it is going to be wonderful to lounge 
around here on this cool porch, with the breeze com- 
ing up from the valley below, after the terrible heat 
of the city,” said Mr. D’Lanson, looking longingly at 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


13 


the large comfortable chairs and thinking how de- 
lightful it would be to sit there smoking with Miss 
Miriam as a companion. 

“I guess we had all better put on our tennis cos- 
tumes before luncheon,” suggested Mrs. Cleverton, 
“and then,” she went on, “we’ll have time to play a 
set or two of tennis before anyone else arrives. Fm 
sure the girls feel dusty and dirty.” 

“Yes, I, for one, think that an excellent plan,” 
replied Miss Miriam. “We don’t want to lose any 
time.” 

“Make yourselves at home. You will find your 
rooms ready, if you wish to wash up,” was Mrs. 
Cleverton’s parting juncture to the gentlemen, as 
she and the two girls disappeared into the house. 

Twenty minutes later they appeared again, look- 
ing fresh and attractive in their white shirt waists 
and skirts. 

They found that the men had also changed their 
street clothes for soft shirts and white trousers and 
were surely making themselves at home, for both of 
them were sipping something of deep brownish color 
from large cool-looking glasses. 

“I motion that we turn on the Victrola and have a 
dance before luncheon,” said Miss Doris. 

“It’s pretty warm for dancing,” laughed Mrs. 
Cleverton, “I’ll put the pieces on for you people and 
save my strength for the tennis.” 

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” insisted Mr. 
Green. “I intend to steal the pleasure of having the 
first dance with the hostess.” 

He helped her to choose a lively one-step and be- 
fore she knew it, they were whirling around like two 


14 THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 

children. Mrs. Cleverton could tell an instant after 
the dance started, that she had found a wonderful 
partner. She forgot everything for a few moments, 
in the excitement of the dance, but was brought back 
to earth by the butler announcing that lunch was 
ready. 

Everyone had a good appetite and they laughed 
and joked while they ate. Mrs. Cleverton could see 
that Miss Doris was very much attracted to Mr. 
Green, but she hoped that they would not become 
too much attached to each other until she found out 
something about the young man. He was certainly 
handsome and had beautiful manners, ‘‘But,” she 
thought, to herself, “it is strange that I have never 
heard of him before.” 

The tennis court looked cool and inviting as they 
wandered out over the smooth green lawn to where 
it stood, well-shaded and in perfect condition. Mrs. 
Cleverton could not be moved this time by their 
threats or pleading to take part in the game. She 
insisted that it was entirely too warm for her and 
seated herself on a little rustic seat to watch the 
match, which promised to be very exciting. 

It was not long, however, until one of the servants 
came to tell her that her husband had arrived home 
and wanted her up at the house for a few moments. 
When she had reached the veranda, she found him 
sitting with a lady and gentleman enjoying a cool- 
ing drink. She greeted Mrs. Darius Wicks affec- 
tionately for she was very fond of the little widow, 
but it was hard for her to even shake hands with the 
gentleman, notwithstanding the fact that he was her 
husband^s cousin. This cousin, Mr. Cleverton, made 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


15 


rather a good appearance, for he was in a way dis- 
tinguished looking and he had about him the man- 
ner of a man of great prosperity and riches. But 
Mrs. Cleverton knew his circumstances to be other- 
wise and she knew also, that he hated and envied 
the Doctor because of his prosperity and happiness. 
Then, too, it exasperated her to have to play hostess 
to him every week-end during the summer for he 
never missed one of their little house parties and 
never received an invitation to any of them. He 
seemed to take it for granted that being one of their 
relatives he could come and go as he pleased. Mrs. 
Cleverton was too much of a lady, though, to show 
her displeasure in any way so she sat down and tried 
to be as congenial as possible. A little later they all 
walked out to see how the tennis match was coming 
along. 

The Doctor and his wife dragged along slowly in 
hopes that they might have a word with each other. 
When they did get a chance, Mrs. Cleverton, who 
seldom lost her temper, broke out fitfully, “Why did 
you bring that terrible bore out here again ?’^ she 
scolded. 

“I couldn't help it," answered the Doctor play- 
fully begging for mercy. “He telephoned that he 
would be down at my office in time to drive out with 
me and sure enough he was there waiting in the ma- 
chine. I had no chance of escape. What could 
I do?" 

“You silly goose," exclaimed his wife, “you are 
too soft-hearted. You would give away your last 
dollar rather than offend your worst enemy. But 
honestly," she went on, more kindly, “it is for your 


16 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


own good that you ought to get rid of that man. 
I’m sure that he detests you even though he pre- 
tends to be so friendly.” 

They had no more time for conversation for they 
had reached the tennis court and the young folks 
dropped their game when they saw the Doctor and 
rushed to greet him. 

The afternoon wore on and at five o’clock, Mr. 
and Mrs. Stotesbury and Mr. and Mrs. Houghton 
arrived. There was a great exchange of greetings 
and then everyone repaired to their rooms to dress 
for dinner. 

The sun went down and the fearful heat of the 
day was over. A slight breeze was stirring which 
blew the dust in swirls through the air and gave 
warning of a thunder storm, not far distant. 

The merry guests inside did not care. They made 
an unsually gay party as they gathered around the 
brightly lighted dinner table. After dinner there 
was a table of bridge made up and the rest of the 
folks danced and did just as they pleased. It was 
almost midnight, when Mrs. Stotesbuy rose from the 
bridge game and announced that she was tired and 
thought she would go to bed. 

There was a general movement in that direction. 
Miss Doris and Miss Miriam were loathe to retire 
but wanted to do the proper thing, and so were 
forced to bid a reluctant goodnight to the young 
men. Mrs. Cleverton followed Mrs. Stotesbury and 
Mrs. Houghton to their rooms which were across 
the hall from each other and asked them confiden- 
tially to let her keep their jewelry for fear something 
might happen to it. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


‘Tt’s absurd, my dear, for you to suggest doing 
such a thing,” said Mrs. Houghton. 

‘T have always taken care of my own jewelry,” 
replied Mrs Stotesbury firmly, “and I have a per- 
fectly honest maid who guards them like a lion 
would his prey. YouVe never had anything stolen 
here, I’m sure, so don’t give us the shivers.” 

Mrs. Cleverton bit her lip but could say no more. 

In the meantime, Mrs. Darius Wicks and Mr. 
Cleverton had strolled out onto the porch for a tete- 
a-tete before going to bed. Mrs. Wicks being a 
widow, felt that she was old enough to chaperon 
herself and therefore took liberties which would not 
have been becoming to Miss Doris Reese or Miriam 
Whitman. Mrs. Wicks had, in her own way of 
reckoning, lived alone long enough. The Clevertons 
were all of good family and she could see that the 
gentleman who walked so dignifiedly by her side was 
very much infatuated with her. A woman’s intu- 
ition is one of her most valuable gifts. Mrs. Wicks 
with an eye to business, had planned this little mid- 
night ecapade for she pictured how well she would 
look with her bare arms and neck showing so won- 
derfully white in the darkness of the night. And in 
truth, she did look beautiful with the flashes of heat 
lightning playing about her white gown like forked 
tongues of flame. The sight of her would have 
melted a heart of stone. 

Mr. Cleverton led her to a rustic seat and after 
having persuaded her to sit down for awhile, they 
watched the lights in the house go out one by one, 
leaving it dark and sombre looking. Mr. Cleverton’s 
arm stole around Mrs. Wicks’ waist. Who can 


18 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


withstand the wiles of a young and charming widow, 
incidently the owner of a fairly well-filled purse? 
Is it a weakness to be wrought upon by the exquisite 
curves of a woman’s cheek or the delicate molding 
of her bare white arms? A woman’s arm touched 
the soul of a great sculptor two thousand years ago 
so much that he wrought an image of it which 
moves us still. Call it weakness, if you will, but do 
not pass judgment if you have never been beseiged 
by a lady whose beauty and grace have already won 
from you the tribute of admiration. The psycholog- 
ical moment had almost arrived and Mrs. Wicks 
knew how to bring things to a climax, but just then 
the raindrops started to come down. Mr. Cleverton 
would never have felt them but Mrs. Wicks could 
imagine how she would look with her hair straggling 
and wet and the powder and paint running down 
her cheeks. No, no, that would never do. She de- 
cided to make a hasty retreat. It was indeed a 
shame that the weather was about to spoil all her 
plans. She arose and posed before him in such an 
alluring manner, that he lost control of himself and 
suddenly crushing her in his arms, rained kisses 
upon her face and lips. When he released her, she 
turned without saying a word and hurried to the 
house. 

Mr. Cleverton did not attempt to follow her. He 
was overcome with happiness and did not even no- 
tice that the rain was coming down faster and fas- 
ter. He sat down and began to ponder over what 
had just happened and he chuckled contentedly to 
himself, for he felt with perfect assurance that Mrs. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


19 


Wicks had not disliked his treatment of her. She 
had not even struggled in his embrace. 

Meanwhile, everything in the house had quieted 
down. Dr. Cleverton had pleaded with his wife to, 
go to bed. “I have a few things to do yet,’’ he said, 
‘‘but I want you to get some sleep. You are losing 
your pink cheeks and rest is what you need.” 

She kissed him good-night and started upstairs. 

The Doctor felt a twinge of conscience at deceiv- 
ing her, but she had seemed ready to do as he said 
so he turned into a small room which he had fitted 
up as a laboratory and instead of going to work, sat 
down and waited anxiously for someone to come. 

Mrs. Cleverton hastened to her room. It was not 
her intention to go to bed but she undressed and 
donned a negligee. Then she turned the lights out 
and stood listening. All seemed quiet. One could 
have heard a pin drop if it had not been for the rust- 
ling of the leaves outside and the distant rumbling 
of thunder. She looked like a spectre in her long 
white robe. She sat down and laid her head on the 
window sill where she could watch the coming 
storm. It seemed to her that she had remained in 
this position for an age, when suddenly she heard a 
door open and close just beneath the window. She 
went to the dressing-table drawer and pulled out a 
small ivory handled revolver, then she tip-toed into 
the next room, where her dear little child lay sleep- 
ing in contentment and innocency. She bent over 
the crib and kissed her baby. ‘T can’t tell what 
might happen,” she thought to herself. She made 
her way into the hall and stole down the back stairs. 


20 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


When she had reached the bottom, she could see a 
figure disappearing up the front staircase. 

It was a woman and evidently she took no pains 
to keep quiet for she hummed to herself and Mrs. 
Cleverton caught the faint echo of it. 

‘‘Still,’’ thought Mrs. Cleverton, “where was this 
woman coming from at this hour?” She would in- 
vestigate. She slipped out the side door and down 
the steps. The trees were bending in the breeze and 
the rumbling of thunder was coming nearer. She 
sped out underneath an oak tree which would afford 
her shelter from the rain for the time being. She de- 
cided to watch the house from this point until she 
would be forced to leave for fear of a drenching. 
Once standing still, she began to realize what a ner- 
vous strain she was laboring under. 

It seemed hours that she stood there, straining 
her eyes in the darkness, but in truth, it was only a 
few minutes. Did she imagine it or could it be pos- 
sible that somebody was whispering nearby? She 
took a firmer hold on her revolver. The whispering 
came nearer and now, she could not only hear what 
the persons were saying, but horrors! There was 
no mistaking their voices. Her worst fears were re- 
alized. She knew that her white robe was very per- 
ceptible even in the darkness of the storm and that 
she would have to be doubly careful not to be seen. 
But, oh God! What was she to do? She realized 
that she would have to do all in her power to get rid 
of them before they would be found and their iden- 
tity disclosed. She would have to nerve herself to 
encounter these persons alone. She could not run, 
now, even if she tried to do so for they were coming 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


21 


nearer and nearer. She reached up her arm which 
held the revolver and steadied herself just in time, 
for suddenly she found herself face to face with two 
men. 

The strange sudden meeting made her head whirl 
around. She could hear the beating of her own 
heart and felt the blood surging through her temples 
like blows from a hammer. What she saw appalled 
her and made her hair raise like bristles on her neck. 
Here was another link in the chain of doom which 
seemed to be drawing tighter around her. 


4 


CHAPTER III. 


Before she could pull the trigger of the revolver, 
one of the men caught her firmly by the wrist. 

‘‘So it’s you, you little Hell-cat ?’’ he hissed be- 
tween his teeth. “You sure turned yellow since we 
seen you last.” His hold on her wrist was hurting 
her very badly. 

The other man stepped out of the shadows and 
giving vent to a knowing chuckle, said, “Let the lady 
go, Pierre, she’s not going to run. We’ve got the 
goods on her.” 

“Yes, you little hussy,” growled Pierre, taking a 
firmer hold upon her, “you’ve done us the dirt long 
enough livin’ like the Queen of England. Collectin’ 
all the jewels in New York for your own special 
benefit and leavin’ your poor pals out in the cold. 
Thought you could get away with it, didn’t you? 
Well, you can’t,” he growled. “Now, young lady, 
either you cough up or we’ll expose you to all your 
swell friends.” 

“Why what do you mean?” moaned Mrs. Clever- 
ton. “You have been robbing my house right and 
left and now you think you’ll spoil my life by trying 
to put the blame on me.” 

“Well, we ain’t seen any of your money nor jew- 
els” said the second man, “and as for me, I want you. 
You were promised to me and when I came for you, 
22 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


23 


‘the bird had flown/ A nice little joke. Ha! Hal” 
he chuckled, “but IVe never given you up. I’ll get 
you yet, my lady.” 

There was a sudden peal of thunder and at the 
same time such a flash of lightning that for an in- 
stant everything was as light as day. The rain was 
falling heavier and heavier and was even beginning 
to drop upon their heads from the mass of leaves 
and boughs above them. As the second man uttered 
his last word, he stepped forward and gritting his 
teeth, looked straight into her eyes. There was 
scarcely six inches between them. 

“I knew that it was you robbing my house,” 
groaned Mrs. Cleverton. 

She was almost exhausted with fright but real- 
ized the only way to deal with these men was to try 
to show some signs of courage and not to lose her 
nerve. They were not of the type that ever feels 
sorry for a woman. Pity and consideration was an 
unknown quantity to them. 

“It’s a damned lie,” said the face near hers, “we’ve 
never put a foot within these grounds till to-night.” 

“Then,” asked Mrs. Cleverton, “how do you know 
anything has been stolen ?” 

“That’s a joke,” laughed the man called Pierre, 
“your honest caretakers sat on the porch and dis- 
cussed the question all evening.” 

“We were just coming up to pay you a little visit, 
honey,” said the face near hers. “It’s been so long 
since we’ve had the pleasure of seeing you.” 

So it was not true after all. Mrs. Cleverton felt 
her strength returning and such a wave of relief 
swept over her that she forgot for the moment that 


24 : 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


she was in the power of these ruffians. But she 
knew the two men well enough to realize that they 
were telling her the truth. The shade of regret in 
their voices had showed her plainly enough that 
they were not in possession of the lost jewels. 

“You’re goin’ to give me a kiss from them red lips 
of yours,” said the man who had crept so closely to 
her. 

“You scoundrel!” she whispered hoarsely. “If 
you don’t get out, I’ll rouse the whole house.” 

“Yes, you will,” he threatened in terrible anger, 
his temper thoroughly aroused. “It wouldn’t be the 
first kiss you’ve given me and if you scream, they’ll 
know you for what you are, a thief.” 

With that he seized her in his arms with such 
force that her breath left her and even had she dared, 
she could not have made a sound. 

Dear knows how long he would have held her in 
this maddening embrace had not the other man 
spoken. There was a sharp streak of lightning. The 
two struggling together stood as plainly in view as 
though a thousand electric lights had suddenly been 
turned on. 

“You crazy fool,” screamed Pierre, so that his 
voice might be heard ‘above the peal of thunder 
which burst forth, “let her go. We’ll come for her 
later and make a clean job of the house at the same 
time. You’re ruinin’ my chances and everyone else’s 
at the same time by your damned foolishness.” 

The rain was now coming down in torrents. The 
man who held Mrs. Cleverton in his embrace threw 
her from him with such force that she slipped and 
fell in the mud. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


25 


“You’ll be mine some day, mind ye,” he whis- 
pered hoarsely. “Go back to your big house and 
your servants and your old lady husband, but I 
branded you and I’m goin’ to come back for you.” 

With that they were gone. 

Mr. Cleverton, left alone in the bower and uncon- 
scious of the rain, as I have said before, was sitting 
in enraptured silence when he saw the door of the 
house open and a figure in white come out. His 
heart leaped into his mouth. Could it be possible 
that Mrs. Wicks had decided to come back? He 
was a little bit surprised when he noticed that she 
disappeared amongst the cluster of trees. “She’s 
going to play a joke on me,” he whispered to himself 
and he sat very still and pictured how she would 
probably sneak up behind him and give him a de- 
lightful surprise. It would take just a dear little 
soul like her to do such an unheard of and wonder- 
ful thing. He could see the liquid depths of her be- 
seeching eyes as they had looked into his when he 
gave her that first sweet kiss. 

But, as he sat there in dreamy silence, no loving 
arms were wrapped around his neck. Instead, the 
thunder drew nearer and an unusually sharp streak 
of lightning startled him so much that all thoughts 
of love suddenly left his mind. Mr. Cleverton was, 
in truth, afraid of thunder storms and still, that fig- 
ure amongst the trees worried him. The sight of it 
fascinated him and instead of making straight for 
the house, he took a round about way, skirting the 
edge of the trees. Then came a terrible burst of thun- 
der, a bright flash of lightning and there, in plain view, 
directly in front of him, he could see the white figure 


26 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


he was seeking, held firmly in the embrace of an- 
other man. The shock was almost too much for 
him, but rather than be caught spying, he stole back 
to the side door and entered the house. He had just 
reached the large front staircase when he saw a fig- 
ure coming down. He hid behind the newel post 
and as it passed him, he could see to his surprise, 
that it was his cousin. Dr. Cleverton. 

The Doctor seemed perplexed but made his way 
through the hall out onto the porch with some as- 
surance. Mr. Cleverton sneaked upstairs. As Dr. 
Cleverton reached the bottom of the steps, leading 
from the side porch, he saw something white coming 
from between the trees. 

He had gone to his room after consulting with the 
party for whom he had been waiting in his labora- 
tory but was much surprised to find his wife not 
there and the bed untouched. Then he had made a 
tour of the whole house but not finding her, he de- 
cided that she must have gone out on the porch for 
a breath of air, as it was very warm and sultry in- 
side and she had been worrying a great deal lately 
over the events which had occurred. 

What was this coming towards him, half reeling 
as it made its way along? He stood back and as the 
figure came nearer he was stunned to see that it was 
his wife. He felt as though he could not move to help 
her. Just then a scream rent the air and somebody 
poked their head out of the second-story window and 
yelled in terror, ‘‘Help ! help ! I’m being robbed.” 

It is wonderful how quickly we can pull ourselves 
together when the occasion demands it and remain 
rigidly cool and passive under the most terrifying 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


27 


circumstances. The Doctor did not wait to hear any- 
more. In an instant he knew that his wife must 
never be found here in her present condition. He 
caught her up in his arms and with unnatural 
strength, carried her into the hall and opening a 
door to a small room which they used exclusively 
for telephoning, he laid her on the floor and locked 
the door from the outside, then he hurried upstairs. 
Everything was a blaze of light with frightened peo- 
ple scurrying about in their night clothes. There 
seemed to be no sign of a robber and Dr. Cleverton 
heard with great relief that nothing had been stolen. 
The servants had come down from the third floor 
and were clinging to each other in terror as they 
stood about the hall waiting to hear what had hap- 
pened. The butler, when he saw his master, pointed 
a shaking finger towards Mrs. Stotesbury^s room and 
said nothing. The Doctor might have supposed 
from his manner that somebody had been murdered. 
In Mrs. Stotesbury^s room, excitement ran havoc. 
She and her French maid were seated upon the bed 
with their feet up under them as if in fear that some- 
thing was going to jump out from underneath it and 
the maid was telling in broken French about the 
frightful experience she had just been through. 
Around them were grouped the other guests, garbed 
in a wonderful array of boudoir caps and silk pa- 
jamas. 

It seemed as though Mrs. Stotesbury had been 
unusually nervous that night, before retiring, and 
had given the maid all her valuables, warning the 
poor girl, to take extra good care of them, and so to 
put them beneath her pillow. The little maid, who 


28 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


was very temperamental and easily frightened, had 
not been able to sleep very soundly. The bulk, 
which felt like a rock beneath her head, kept re- 
minding her of a possible robber and turned her 
dreams into nightmares. She really had not been 
surprised when she had felt the presence of a human 
hand groping its way over the bed to the precious 
pillow. She had screamed and the silent intruder 
had disappeared. Mrs. Stotesbury had come into the 
room and in a panic of fear, had thrown up the win- 
dow and cried for help ! She could remember no 
more. The different groups listening to her story, 
could not withstrain from showing a shade of disap- 
pointment, for after being awakened from a sound 
sleep, it is very aggravating to learn that youVe had 
all your trouble for nothing more than to listen to 
the over-wrought imagination of a lady’s maid. For 
this was most every person’s conception of the rob- 
bery, and they all chided Mrs. Stotesbury severely 
for frightening the poor girl. 

Dr. Cleverton did n6t know what to think of the 
maid’s story, and he felt very much puzzled. He 
had been over almost the entire house, with the ex- 
ception of the rooms where people were sleeping, 
just a short time before the robbery was attempted 
and he had neither seen nor heard any one stirring. 
His wife had evidently been the only person prowl- 
ing about as far as he could see. 

After everything had quieted, the Doctor made 
his way down stairs to the telephone room and un- 
locked the door. There lay his beautiful wife cov- 
ered with damp mud. He bent over her and could 
see that she was unconscious. He noticed for the 


,THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


29 


first time, that a revolver lay on the floor beside her. 
She had evidently dropped it when her hand relaxed. 
He had no time to think now, but lifted her hur- 
riedly in his arms and bore her to their room. Then 
he turned on the light and used every means to bring 
her back to life again. With his hands on her pulse, 
he could see faint signs of returning consciousness. 
He looked at her wrist and on it were stamped 
plainly and undeniably, the imprints of a man^s 
fingers. 


CHAPTER IV. 


When the sun had come up next morning and 
shone in unusual brilliancy, purifying the atmos- 
phere already imbued with that fragrant ‘‘after the 
rain” odor, it almost seemed to Mrs. Cleverton that 
Nature’s mood was determined to act in harsh con- 
trast with the great crisis in her life. On this bright 
day, trouble seemed so discordant and fate had her 
cold and awful face behind a veil beguiling with 
soft breezes and violet scented breath. 

Everybody was up early and bubbling over with 
buoyant spirits, none the worse for their scare the 
night before. They all looked at it now in the light 
of a joke. There had been a cross-country ride 
^ planned the day before, and at nine o’clock, Mrs. 
Cleverton, who had played off sick and had given 
this excuse also for her absence the night before, 
found herself all alone. To tell the truth, she was 
feeling very ill, and almost on the verge of hysteria. 
She had not been able to face her husband for she 
could tell him nothing and she knew that he was 
deeply hurt by her actions. 

As the events of the past years flitted like shad- 
ows over her heart she felt that during her life she 
30 


JHE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


31 


had experienced the most transcendant happiness 
and exquisite pain. She was still so young and full 
of life and activity that she could not bear to think 
that the poisonous weeds of her girlhood were about 
to destroy the sensitive gossamer threads extending 
between her heart and her husband’s. She prayed 
that it might not be possible that their delicate and 
subtle relationship was to be rent asunder by an ever 
widening gap which could never be filled. ‘‘Only a 
misunderstanding!” How simple and yet how un- 
utterable is the depth of meaning in those words. 

She might have made an open confession to her 
husband, explaining all the previous events and he 
would have given her freely of his love and advice 
and everything would have turned out different. But 
it had become an established mental condition with 
her to have a terrible fear lest the Doctor should find 
out that it was her own brother robbing his house. 
Now that she knew Pierre was not guilty of that 
crime, she was panic stricken for fear of what he 
might do in the future. Worst of all she had never 
told her husband of this brother’s existence. She 
had often intended to tell him but somehow she had 
always lacked the courage at the last moment. Un- 
til thought is linked with purpose, there is no intelli- 
gent accomplishment and so she had drifted along, 
making excuses for herself and living in hopes that 
she would never have the occasion to regret her si- 
.lence. When the robberies had occurred and her 
(Suspicions had been aroused, she had realized for the 
first time what an unenviable position she was placed 
[in. All her being rebelled against the fate which 
jhad given her such a desperate character for sL 


32 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


brother. She comforted herself with the thought 
that since she had tried so hard to live a righteous 
and honorable life, she was not deserving of this 
new misfortune. It is pleasing to human vanity to 
believe that one suffers because of one’s virtue. She 
decided that she would make an open confession if 
things should become worse. 

She threw herself onto a large divan on the porch 
and closed her eyes to rest them a little, if possible. 
She must have dozed off, for she was awakened and 
very much startled by somebody kissing her on the 
cheek, but before she could stir, she felt two little 
arms steal around her neck and heard the sweetest 
little voice in the world, say, “Mudder, mudder, 
wake up. Baby’s here.” 

Mrs. Cleverton rubbed her eyes and then hugged 
the child to her breast as though she never could let 
her go again. 

*T’m sorry we disturbed you, ma’am,” said the 
nurse, ‘'but little Alma was crying for her Mama, so 
I promised if she would be good that we’d try to find 
you.” 

“My little girl never disturbs me,” replied Mrs. 
Cleverton. “The only trouble is that I don’t see 
enough of her.” 

She was interrupted by the sound of approaching 
voices. The party had returned from the ride and 
were walking across the lawn, having left their 
horses at the stable. She jumped up and giving her 
little one a parting caress, rushed to the top of the 
steps to meet them. Her husband bounded lightly 
up the steps and kissed her affectionately on the 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


33 


cheek and then she had to tell everyone how much 
better she was feeling. 

They all hurried to their rooms to tidy up, for 
luncheon was nearly ready. A half hour later every- 
body was having a wonderful time for they had all 
developed such large appetites. For the first ten 
minutes after they were seated at the table, no per- 
son could speak as their jaws were busily engaged 
in a more congenial occupation just then — all save 
Mrs. Cleverton — but her lack of appetite was 
scarcely noticed by the laughing guests. Finally, 
Mr. Green broke the silence. 

“Well, Doctor,” he said, “you ought to offer a re- 
ward for the man who catches the mysterious 
robber.” 

There was a general laugh. 

“I would be glad to do it,” replied Dr. Cleverton. 

“Do you really think there was a real live robber 
in the house last night?” spoke up Miss Doris Reese. 

“Of course there wasn’t,” laughed Mr. Dick 
D’Lanson. “Just let a lot of women go to bed with 
a thunder-storm coming up and they can imagine 
most anything.” 

“I think we had better drop the subject,” sug- 
gested Mr. Cleverton sarcastically. “It might not 
frighten the men but if we dwell on the subject too 
much, we’ll have the ladies so nervous that they 
won’t be able to enjoy themselves.” 

“Perhaps Mr. Cleverton’s suggestion would be a 
good thing,” replied Mrs. Houghton, nervously fin- 
gering her rings. “Not that I would ever be a cow- 
ard. As for myself, I’d like to see a thief some 


34 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


time. My husband always says that I should have 
been a detective. Pd like to meet a real live robber. 
I’d settle him. He’d never get away from me.” 

“Perhaps you may have an opportunity to try 
your hand at it some time,” said Mr. Cleverton 
quietly. 

Dr. Cleverton said nothing. It made him rather 
uncomfortable to have these people forever harp on 
the subject for it was a painful one to him and espe- 
cially since his experience of last night, he had been 
feeling low spirited and terribly worried at the 
strange and unexplainable turn things had taken. 
He looked at his wife and could not help but notice 
her pallor and the imperceptible start she gave some- 
times when a careless remark pertaining to robber- 
ies was made and once or twice, when his hand had 
touched hers, he noticed that they were very cold. 

What had brought her out of the house so late 
last night and what terrible experience had she 
passed through to have left her in such a pitiable 
condition ? Above all, what could have caused those 
red marks on her wrist but the terrible grasp of a 
man’s strong fingers? But whose and how? He 
felt that he could not question her — surely, she 
would tell him all about it in her own time, but it 
rent his heart to think of his Alma bearing any trou- 
ble that he could not share. No, he would say noth- 
ing, yet. He would wait and besides, it might only 
be an added shock for her to tell him — to describe — 
to mentally live over the terrible ordeal would prob- 
ably unnerve her and he could see that she was just 
about at the breaking point, laboring under a great 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


35 


strain to appear natural so that her guests would 
never suspect anything out of the way with her. 

The younger people strolled off to the tennis court 
early in the afternoon and seemed very well satisfied 
to play a little and sit on the benches and flirt a good 
deal. 

Mrs. Wicks repaired to her room for a beauty 
sleep, while Mrs. Houghton and Mrs. Stotesbury 
brought forth a couple of late novels. 

Dr. Cleverton offered to take Mr. Green for a lit- 
tle walk around the estate since it was Mr. Green's 
first visit there and he seemed to be very interested 
and entertained with everything he saw. 

Miss Doris Reese looked after them rather regret- 
fully for this lively young lady's fickle fancy had 
been quite taken by the clever stranger and she 
found his talk to be more absorbing than the usual 
vapid badinage of most of the young men of her set. 
“Well, to-night," she thought to herself, “will be my 
time," and she proceeded to lay her plans then and 
there to capture young Green's heart and went to her 
room rather early in order to make extensive prepa- 
rations for her campaign. Her ball gown lay on a 
chair — ^what a pretty gown it was and how the 
knowledge that it was becoming would add to her 
pleasure during the coming evening. She shook out 
her curly black hair — humming a little tune all the 
while. She was glad that her mother had counseled 
her to bring her new white lace gown ; the red ge- 
raniums at the belt gave it a touch of piquancy. 
She wondered as she splashed in the cool water 
whether petticoats would be scant or full next sea- 


36 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


son. She hoped they would be full so as to have 
plenty of freedom to dance the new dances. To- 
night she intended to have a lovely time dancing 
with Mr. Green. She could see herself — arch — ^bril- 
liant — mutinous. She would enslave him with a 
look and carry him off in triumph. 

The sun went down like a red ball in the west, 
leaving a wonderful afterglow which gave promise 
of a beautiful clear night. Within the house, all 
was a hustle and bustle. Cleverhill flamed with 
lights from top to bottom. The entrance gates stood 
wide open. All along the drive, lamps flashed from 
unsuspected places beneath the sentinel trees. The 
night was so soft and scented that one might have 
thought oneself in Italy. From the stars and lights 
one could see the line of automobiles which soon 
came chugging up the drive to the house. The moon 
came up and shed a soft radiance over the spacious 
piazza on which were placed small tables lighted 
with tiny Japanese lamps and sparkling with silver 
and cut glass. The large living-room, just inside, 
had been cleared for dancing and one need only step 
through the long French windows from the dance- 
hall to the dinner party. The musicians were in 
their places and the exquisite melody of the latest 
hesitation waltz made every new arrival long to 
be gliding over the smooth floor. 

Mrs. Cleverton greeted her guests gowned in 
black lace with a single red rose on her shoulder. 
Her beautiful white arms, like white marble, were 
unadorned. Her sole ornament was a rope of match- 
less pearls — an heirloom her husband had given her 
when they were married. She had felt this evening 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


37 


that she could not wear any of her brighter gowns 
for they did not seem to suit her mood. 

Mrs. Wicks looked very radiant in a gown of 
lavender satin as she clung to Mr. Cleverton. Mrs. 
Houghton and Mrs. Stotesbury had both tried to 
make themselves look as nearly like the Queen of 
Sheba with all the Court Jewels on, as best they 
could. 

It was not long until the party was in full progress 
and everyone was dancing and eating alternately. It 
was a very congenial crowd because they all came 
from the same social set of New York and had al- 
ways known each other. The waiters passed to and 
fro and watched carefully that every glass was filled 
to the brim with the sparkling golden Ambrosia, 
which imbued with new life even those who had not 
intended to dance and who were now hopping about 
as lively as carefree children. Could anyone imag- 
ine anything more delightful. Unfortunately, there 
were a few, as there always are, who did not know 
their limit and became slightly intoxicated. 

Shortly before midnight, Mrs. Cleverton saw Mrs. 
Eugene Houghton rise from her table and refusing 
the escort of any of the gentlemen, break away and 
stagger somewhat uncertainly into the house. She 
felt sorry for the poor lady for it was terribly warm 
dancing and she supposed that Mrs. Houghton had 
overreached herself, so she also arose from the table 
and decided to follow her, thinking that she might 
be of some assistance. 

She did not wish to humiliate Mrs. Houghton and 
kept in the distance, hoping that she would not be 
noticed. As she entered the lower hall, she could 


38 


JHE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


see that the lady in front of her was having rather 
a hard time to get upstairs, but she decided not to 
make her presence known unless it would be abso- 
lutely necessary, so she followed her up and watched 
her until she was safely in her own room. But, to 
make sure she glanced in and could see Mrs. Hough- 
ton drop in a heap upon a davenport. Mrs. Clever- 
ton breathed a sigh of relief and turned into her 
room, thinking that while she was upstairs, she 
might as well put a few touches to her toilet. 

Everything was so quiet in this portion of the 
house that one would hardly think that a dance 
was in full progress downstairs. All the servants 
were either gathered out on the lawn listening to 
the music and snatching a little dance now and then, 
or else, in the kitchen working and perhaps steal- 
ing a morsel of food or two. God forbid ! 

Mrs. Cleverton seated herself at her dressing-table 
and smiled at her reflection in the glass, for her hair 
had become very much tossed and her face was 
flushed from the excitement of the evening. She 
patted her hair and powdered her nose, humming all 
the while. The clasp of her necklace became caught 
in her hair and she leaned forward to untangle it 
and as she did so, she saw a figure stop at the head 
of the front stairs, for her mirror stood directly op- 
posite the door which was wide open. She would 
have thought nothing of it if she had not seen the 
man, whoever he was, dart swiftly across the hall 
into Mrs. Houghton’s room. She fell back in her 
chair and the blood seemed to freeze in her veins for 
she had seen enough to realize that the figure had 
not been that of Mr. Eugene Houghton for he was 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


39 


short and stout and the figure in the hall had been 
tall and slender. She pulled herself together as 
best she could and wondered what she should do. 
She reached a shaky hand towards the drawer in 
which she had always kept her revolver but feared 
that the Doctor had not put it back in its accus- 
tomed place. To her surprise there it lay and its 
presence seemed to give her a new sense of security. 
She decided to investigate. 

She stole quietly out of the room and crept along 
the hall, hugging the wall as she went. When she 
came to Mrs. Houghton’s door, she found it almost 
closed. She stopped and listened but could hear no 
sound. What was going on in that silent room? 
She gave the door a little push and as it made no 
noise, she pushed it a little further. Now, indeed, 
she could see what was going on. 

Mrs. Houghton lay unconscious on the divan, her 
face the color of death. One limp arm hung over 
the side of the divan and on the floor knelt a man 
with his back to the door. He had evidently re- 
moved all the jewelry from her person with the ex- 
ception of one earring, which proved difficult. At 
last his patience was exhausted and he gave it a 
quick jerk. A small stream of blood trickled down 
the white neck of the unconscious woman. 

Mrs. Cleverton could neither speak nor move. She 
had recognized the thief and stood aghast. 


CHAPTER V. 


She felt herself turn pale and tremble so violently 
that she had to grasp the door frame for support. 
The click of her rings as they struck the wood,>^ 
startled the kneeling figure. He struggled to his 
feet. When the man turned, he found himself look- 
ing directly at the point of a revolver. His face 
was ghastly white. The sweat stood out upon his 
forehead. His lips moved but no words came. The 
terrible feeling of anger that surged through her, 
made her feel as strong as a tigress. She clenched 
her fist and gritted her teeth. 

“You cur,” she hissed. “You despicable little rat. 
How dare you.” She took a step towards him and 
went on. “IVe a good notion to shoot you in cold 
blood, you low-down sneak.” 

He fell on his knees before her and his teeth chat- 
tered so hard that they rendered him speechless. 

She had concentrated her attention entirely upon 
the repulsive figure in front of her and so did not 
notice a third party in the room. 

“Gee,” said a strange voice suddenly. 

Both turned sharply and Mrs. Cleverton gave a 
little cry of horror. 

“You’ve still got some sand about you. Sis, but 
here’s where this kid takes up the fight.” 

There before her stood her brother, laughing and 
40 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


41 


sneering. She cringed as though somebody had 
struck her. 

“For God’s sake, get out as quickly as you can,” 
she ordered in a hoarse voice, turning to him. “You 
might possibly get away if you hurry.” 

“Sure, I’ll go, just as quick as this swell,” he an- 
swered pointing a dirty thumb at the kneeling man, 
“turns over his loot to me.” 

“No! no!” commanded Mrs. Cleverton, panting 
for breath. “You will never get these jewels except 
over my dead body. Have you fallen so low that 
you would rob your own sister’s house?” 

“Mind your own business,” threatened her 
brother. “Who are you to preach to me? I ain’t 
got much time,” he growled, stepping towards the 
man on the floor, “turn out your pockets quick or 
I’ll knock you flat.” 

“Don’t dare do such a thing,” commanded Mrs. 
Cleverton, “or I’ll send a bullet through you.” 

Although she had put up a brave fight for a wo- 
man, she was playing against too great odds. Be- 
fore she had an opportunity to carry out her threat, 
her brother made a leap toward her, his face dis- 
torted with anger. “You go to hell,” he snorted, 
dealing her arm such a crushing blow that her re- 
volver flew into the air and landed with a thud at 
the other end of the room. She fell back against the 
post of the bed, moaning with pain. She saw the 
kneeling man attempt to arise but before he could 
do so, her brother caught him by the throat in a 
powerful grip and holding him in this position, 
kicked him until he sank to the floor in a lifeless 
heap. 


42 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


“YouVe killed him,” she whispered in a broken 
voice as she staggered forward. 

Her brother did not even look up. He was busy 
emptying the pockets of his victim in feverish haste. 
It was not until he had fully accomplished his pur- 
p>ose that he looked at the man’s death-like face. 
One look was enough. He glanced at his sister and 
for the first time, signs of fright were visible on his 
face. They looked at each other with wide, unsee- 
ing eyes, struck dumb with the horror of what they 
could see before them. The awful stillness was 
broken only by the ticking of the clock on the man- 
tel which seemed to warn them that time was flee- 
ing and that each instant might mean a lifetime to 
them. 

“I’m afraid I got him this time,” hissed her 
brother. 

‘AVhat are you going to do?” sobbed Mrs. Clever- 
ton, wringing her hands. 

“Shut up, you whimpering idiot,” he exclaimed. 
“If you stop your sniveling we can pull out of this 
all right. Open the window ! Hurry up with you.” 

She did not know why she obeyed him for in do- 
ing so, she made herself an accessory to the crime. 

He lifted the body and before she could speak, 
thrust it through the open window and it was lost in 
darkness. 

She remained where she was, dumfounded. She 
could see in her mind that hidden lump of humanity 
as it struck the rocks over a himdred feet below. 

“I’m going,” said her brother, turning toward her. 
‘Tf they catch me, I’m your brother and if you 
don’t stick up for me. I’ll make it damn hot for you.” 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


43 


He disappeared into the next room. She felt it 
would be easy for him to escape for he was a clever 
hand at that sort of business. 

She came to her senses quickly, spurred on by the 
necessity of the moment. She looked at the woman 
on the couch and thanked God that she was only 
sleeping. She tiptoed forward and picked up the 
revolver, intending to make an attempt to reach her 
own room without being seen. She looked around 
to see that everything was in good order and turned 
to the door. But fate was against her. She could 
hear approaching footsteps and so she slunk back, 
but the footsteps came nearer and nearer, mingled 
with the sound of voices. What in Heaven’s name 
was she going to do ? She shook like an aspen leaf. 
Somebody stood in the doorway and a voice which 
she recognized as her husband’s said, “Why, what’s 
the meaning of this ?” 

Mr. Green rushed past him and bent over Mrs. 
Houghton. Dr. Cleverton followed him, but Mr. 
Houghton stood in the doorway and pressed his 
hands to his throbbing temples, barring all means of 
escape for Mrs. Cleverton. 

“She’s doped!” exclaimed the Doctor. “There’s 
something wrong around here.” 

“I’m going to thoroughly investigate immediate- 
ly,” said Mr. Green, “while you bring this woman 
around. 

Suddenly their eyes lighted upon the crouching 
figure of Mrs. Cleverton, wild-eyed and haggard. 
There was an awful silence, while she looked pit- 
eously at her husband. 

“This is awful,” groaned the Doctor, but went 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


44 

over to his wife and put his arms around her. She 
clung to him and sobbed loudly, while he caressed 
her hair and murmured words of comfort. 

“Just a moment, Doctor,’’ broke in Mr. Green. “I 
should like to have a word with your wife as quickly 
as she can get control of herself.” 

“Listen, dear,” said the Doctor gently. “Mr. 
Green is a detective and he’s here to help us. Could 
you tell him what has happened?” 

She shook her head and burst out, “You can 
search me. I have not the jewelry. For God’s sake, 
don’t look at me that way !” 

“What jewelry?” asked Dr. Cleverton. 

“Please don’t ask me,” she moaned piteously. 

“But you must tell us,” replied Mr. Green firmly, 
“or the suspicion might fall upon you.” 

She closed her eyes. “Go to the bottom of the 
cliff,” she said in a low tone, between sobs. Then, 
suddenly she broke from her husband’s embrace, and 
beating her breast with her hands, “Let me go! let 
me go I” she begged. “I’ve told you all I know.” 

Mr. Houghton’s voice interrupted them. “My 
wife’s coming to. Doctor,” he said anxiously. 

The Doctor went over to the couch, while Mr. 
Green’s eyes never left Mrs. Cleverton. 

“You poor woman,” murmured Dr. Cleverton as 
Mrs. Houghton slowly opened her eyes. 

“What’s the matter?” she faintly muttered. 

Nobody spoke. 

“My ear,” she cried, bursting into tears. “It pains 
me so badly. Can’t somebody do something for 
me?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Houghton,” answered the Doctor. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


45 


‘‘Keep calm. I am going to fix you up all right. 
But just wait a moment,” he continued, as though a 
certain thought flitted across his mind. ‘T will call 
the nurse and put my wife in her care for she is in 
no condition to be left alone. And you, Mr. Green, 
had better investigate immediately, the matter about 
which she spoke.” He put his arm around his wife 
and half carried her out of the room. 

When he returned a few minutes later, Mr. Green 
had gone. For the next fifteen minutes he worked 
with Mrs. Houghton, fixing her ear and at the end 
of that time she felt considerably better. 

“Tell me, Doctor,” she asked, “how did I hurt my- 
self? Did I faint? Where are my rings?” 

“You must have taken them off,” answered her 
husband. “Don’t worry about them. You’ll be able 
to find them all right when you’re feeling better.” 

She looked doubtful. “No, I’m sure I did not take 
them off myself,” she went on. “I don’t remember 
anything since I left the porch. I can remember 
dimly, Mr. Cleverton, who was sitting at my table 
saying, ‘Perhaps you would feel better if you would 
lie down for a little while.’ ” 

“My friends,” said Dr. Cleverton firmly, “I’m 
afraid that you have been robbed. It distresses me 
that this should have happened to you in my house, 
but I shall do all in my power to find the guilty per- 
son, and in either case, I shall insist upon paying 
you in full for what you have lost.” 

“My necklace, my rings and my earrings gone !” 
wailed Mrs. Houghton. “All my jewelry that I 
loved so much. I can never be happy again.” 

“Don’t be foolish,” ordered her husband sternly. 


46 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


*‘The Doctor is not to blame and we must do all we 
can to help him.” 

Somebody rushed into the room. The detective 
stood before them and seemed to be laboring under 
great excitement. 

“Doctor, I would like to have you come with me 
for a few minutes,” he said breathlessly. 

“All right,” replied Dr. Cleverton, “but before I 
go, I want to ask Mr. Houghton if he will keep this 
matter as quiet as possible?” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Green gravely, “If anybody comes 
upstairs to inquire, just tell them your wife is not 
feeling well.” 

“I will do all in my power,” answered Mr. Hough- 
ton, “for my own sake as well as yours, to keep this 
matter quiet.” 

The Doctor and the detective hurried to the back 
stairs and made their way down. Neither spoke. 
The sound of music and laughter which came to 
their ears, seemed to mock them and they hurried 
out the side door, hoping to avoid meeting anyone. 
There was a little narrow, steep path which led to 
the river below and they had to descend very care- 
fully in the darkness. The moonlight helped them 
to see. It seemed to Dr. Cleverton after they had 
reached the bottom, that instead of coming face to 
face with some awful tragedy as he had expected, 
that this place was more peaceful in every way than 
his own house. The placid river flowed calmly 
along, just as it had always done since his boyhood. 

“Come here,” said Mr. Green, bending over a 
black heap, which was twisted and snarled and all 
caught up in the bushes around it. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 47 

The Doctor went over. He could see that it was a 
man. He took a box of matches from his pocket 
and wondered before he struck one of them, whose 
face he was about to see. He bent over the form and 
held the small flickering flame near the ghastly face. 
He took a long look, and then fell back nauseated. 

‘‘Good heavens !” he moaned, “It is my cousin.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


The guests were having a merry time. The ta- 
bles had been cleared and nothing remained on them 
but the popular glasses of wine. It was just the 
time of night when everybody felt at their best. 

Miss Doris Reese was having a wonderful time, 
continually surrounded by a group of young men 
for she was very popular and an especially good 
dancer. 

Miss Miriam Whitman and Mr. Dick D’Lanson 
came onto the porch after having enjoyed a brisk 
one-step and Miss Whitman dropped exhausted into 
a chair. 

“I think Tve had enough for one night, Dicky,” 
she said. “Let us order something cool to drink 
and sit here quietly for awhile. I can't bear the 
sight of wine any longer.” 

“Whatever you say, you know,” he replied, light- 
ing a cigarette. “I am willing to cut the dance any 
time. But by the way, where is our hostess? I 
haven't seen her around for a long time.” 

“You know. I'm awfully worried about Alma. 
She doesn't seem well to me, somehow,” she an- 
swered. “She used to be the leading spirit and now 
she acts so distressed. But I can't imagine what 
could have happened to her. She and the Doctor 
are so happy together.” 


48 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


49 


**Come here, waiter,” nodded Mr. D’Lanson, 
knocking on the table. “What will you have to 
drink?” he asked, turning to his fair partner. 

“Well, if it doesn't seem very countrified, I would 
just like to have a glass of milk.” 

“The best way to be good to yourself, is to do just 
as you please,” he laughingly replied. “I’ll take the 
same”. 

The waiter hurried away. 

“You know, Dicky,” Miss Whitman continued, 
“it’s perfectly lovely here, but after we have our lit- 
tle drink of milk, I think we ought to inquire about 
Alma and at the same time find out how Mrs. 
Houghton is feeling.” 

“Why, what happened to her?” he asked. “Is she 
sick too?” 

“No,” Miss Whitman went on, “I think she had 
just a little too much to drink. But keep quiet a 
moment, here comes a waiter.” 

Fifteen minutes later, however, they had com- 
pletely forgotten their more unfortunate friends. 
Have you ever seen lovers who could think of much 
else than each other for any length of time ? There 
is always so much to talk about and the world seems 
strewn with a path of roses. Let us linger over this ^ 
time in our lives for we can never retrace our foot- 
steps. 

They were interrupted by Miss Doris Reese who 
rushed up to them. 

“Drinking milk!” she cried. “Why you two are 
just like a couple of old maids. Well, I’m glad you 
are having a good time, for I’m not. I’ll get even 
with Mr. Green. It has been a long time since I 


50 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


have had a man treat me as cooly as he does. Why,” 
she vrent on more confidentially, ‘T just clung to 
him and still he got away from me.” 

Mr. D’Lanson roared with laughter. “You're a 
funny little girl,” he exclaimed. “Why do you 
bother about men? You could have all you want 
without running after them.” 

“I know,” she answered patting him on the cheek, 
“but it's quality and not quantity that I'm looking 
for.” 

“Well, if I might be allowed to speak,” broke in 
Miss Whitman, “it strikes me that there are quite a 
few of the guests in this house who have left the 
dance. I'm going upstairs and see what's the mat- 
ter.” 

“We'll all go,” announced Miss Doris Reese, jump- 
ing up. “I'm still on the warpath. I've got my Irish 
up.” 

The other two followed her into the hall. As they 
passed the table where Mrs. Stotesbury was sitting 
with Mrs. Wicks and a number of men, Mrs. Stotes- 
bury called to them and asked them where they were 
going. 

“We'll just be gone a few minutes,” they called 
back. 

“Well,” she shouted at their departing figures, “I 
wish you would tell the lazy persons who have gone 
upstairs to come down immediately.” 

They all three made their way to the second floor. 

“I'll go and see if Alma is in her room,” said 
Miss Whitman, “while you inquire for Mrs. Hough- 
ton.” 

“This is certainly a broken down party,” laughed 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


51 


Miss Doris Reese. ‘TPs all right, you know, if you 
don't weaken.” 

In the meantime. Miss Whitman had knocked at 
Mrs. Cleverton’s door. To her surprise, the nurse 
who tended the baby, opened it. 

“I just came up to ask how Mrs. Cleverton is 
feeling,” said Miss Whitman. “Is she not well?” 

“No, ma'am,” replied the nurse, “but I think she 
will be better in a little while. She's just lying 
down a few minutes.” 

“Well, could I do anything for her?” asked Miss 
Whitman, her curiosity thoroughly aroused. 

“Not that I know of,” whispered the nurse. “If 
you can, I will let you know.” 

Miss Whitman turned away disappointed. She 
walked down the hall and met Mr. D’Lanson and 
Miss Reese, who said that Mrs. Houghton was also 
feeling under the weather. 

“Well, what’s the use of crying over spilt milk,” 
exclaimed Miss Doris Reese. “This isn’t helping 
me to find Mr. Green.” 

They reached the bottom of the staircase, how- 
ever, when a young man came up and whirled her off 
almost before she could speak, to have a dance. 

Not until the glorious moon was fast disappearing 
did any of the guests realize the hour and make 
ready to depart. They were a haggard looking 
bunch, especially the ladies as they looked with sur- 
prise at their faces in the mirror over the mantel- 
piece in the library where they had taken off their 
wraps. 

There had been quite a lot of talk about Mrs. 
Cleverton's absence and nobody had expected to 


62 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


see their hostess again that night, but when they 
came out of the room, to their surprise, there she 
stood in the hall waiting to bid them good-bye. She 
seemed to be her old charming self and did not get 
much sympathy for being sick. Finally, the last 
of the guests had departed and she stood surrounded , 
only by those who were visiting in the house. Some- 
thing unusual seemed to be in the air. Whether it 
was the hour or the spirits of those about, nobody 
was inclined to speak and Mrs. Cleverton with a 
murmured *‘Good-night,” turned to go up the front 
stairs. Then for the first time, Mr. D’Lanson no- 
ticed that she was very weak and could hardly drag 
herself along so he hurried forward and under the 
pretence of telling her something confidential, he 
took her arm and helped her along. 

‘"Well,” said Mr. Stotesbury, yawning, ‘T think 
it would be a good plan if we’d all turn in.” He was 
fat and fifty and loss of sleep went hard with him. 

They all started to make their way slowly to the 
second floor, when a voice arrested them from be- 
low. It was Dr. Cleverton speaking. 

‘T would like to have a word with you all,” he 
said in a loud tone. ‘Tt is about a very important 
matter and I feel you ought to know of it before you , 
go to bed.” 

It seemed hardly an instant until he was sur- 
rounded, everybody wanting to know what he was 
going to say before he could get a chance to speak. 

“Something very serious has happened,” he be- 
gan in a firm tone. “It was no person’s fault and 
could not have been helped, but,” he went on, wip- 
ing the perspiration from his forehead with his hand- 


JHE JJNPARDONABLE SIN 


53 


kerchief, is a terrible thing and I want to pre** 
pare you for a shock.” 

Numerous exclamations could be heard such as, 
‘‘For Heaven's sake! “What is it?” “Fm going to 
faint.” “This is more than I can stand.” 

“My friends,” said the Doctor, “there has been an 
awful accident and Mr. Cleverton, my cousin, is 
dead.” 

There was a general shrinking and blanching of 
faces and it was a few minutes before anyone could 
speak. 

Mrs. Wicks gave a loud shriek and dropped into 
Mr. Stotesbury's arms, nearly knocking him over. 

“How did it happen?” groaned Mrs. Stotesbury. 
“This is awful. Why didn’t you tell us before and 
not let us keep on dancing?” 

The Doctor shook his head. “It would have cre- 
ated too much excitement,” he answered. 

“Where is the dead man?” asked Miss Doris 
Reese, her eyes as big as saucers. 

“They are bringing his body up now,” continued 
Dr. Cleverton, “and will put it into the library. He 
fell out of a second-story window accidentally and 
broke his neck.” He covered his face with his hands. 
“I think you had all better go upstairs now,” he 
went on, “and I will come up there to talk to you.” 

He did not need to urge them for there was a 
regular stampede in that direction. Everyone could 
imagine the dead man as he would look when he 
would be carried in and they had no desire to have 
such an experience. 

A short time later, Mr. Cleverton’s body was laid 
upon a large davenport in the library, which room a 


54 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


half hour before had been filled with a happy crowd 
of departing visitors. Now, it was a chamber of 
death. The Doctor, who was in the room, turned to 
Mr. Green. 

‘‘You had better go upstairs and make some ex-1 
planations for me. I am completely unstrung.” 

Mr. Green disappeared. Dr. Cleverton looked at^ 
the hideous heap of humanity before him. He 
started, when he noticed the imprint of finger marks 
on the neck. The man’s fists were tightly clenched 
and he must have been in a kneeling position when 
he had died, for his knees were bent up under him. 
The Doctor tried to open the hands but found great 
difficulty in doing so. One of the hands seemed to 
be holding some object and he had almost to pry 
the fingers open to find out what it was. There in 
the palm, lay a diamond earring all smeared with 
dried-up blood. My God! So this man had been 
the thief. He took the earring intending to hide it 
so that no one would know the truth, but when he 
turned, he found the detective standing looking cu- 
riously at him. 

‘T think that you see before you,” said Mr. Greene, 
‘‘the man who has been robbing your house.” 

He came closer to the almost unrecognizable fig- 
ure and looked at it intently. 

“Yes, I think we have solved that question,” he 
went on. “But whose finger marks are these on his 
neck?” he bent even further forward. “It was a 
man’s hand,” he continued, “who did this deed.” 

“It is horrible. Too horrible to speak about,” ex- 
claimed the Doctor. “But, Green, you promised 
me when you came here that you would keep quiet 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


55 


about anything that might happen, no matter of 
what nature it might be. I’ll be glad to give you 
anything to hush this scandal up.” 

“I’ll do all that I can,” replied Mr. Green, “but it 
is going to be very hard and you realize. Doctor, 
that in not investigating this you will be allowing a 
first-class murderer to go scott free.” 

“I know,” said the Doctor. “But think of the 
scandal and the notoriety should the public learn of 
my cousin’s past. I never dreamed that he was 
such a man.” 

Neither of them noticed the portieres at the other 
end of the room move, nor a figure in black slip out 
and disappear. 

“I think you had better see what your guests are 
going to do,” advised Mr. Green. “I think they are all 
preparing to leave. I will take charge of this man’s 
body and call an undertaker.” 

When the Doctor reached the second floor he 
found everything in a perfect chaos. Everybody 
was all packed up and ready to go. Sleepy chauf- 
feurs had been aroused and were hurrying to bring 
their cars around. Everybody was telling their host 
and hostess in excited voices how sorry they were 
about what had happened. 

Mrs. Houghton appeared, pale and wan with a 
dark veil tied around her head. It was a relief when 
finally they all were started off. 

The Doctor and the detective once more stood in 
the room discussing in a low tone what they should 
do. There was a tap on the door and Mrs. Clever- 
ton stood before them. She was still dressed in her 
evening gown. 


56 


THE UXPARDOXALBLE SIN 


“WTiat are yoa going to do about this?® she 
moaned, catching her breath. 

“We are going to try and hnsh it up,® replied 
the Doctor kindly, “and if you will teU us all you 
know, you might help us a whole lot.® 

“Mrs. Qevcrton,® the detective asked sharply, “do 
you know who the murderer is ?® 

The directness of the question startled her so 
much that she almost shrieked. She caught herself 
in time, however, and stood w a itin g until she could 
think of something to say which would not impli- 
cate her. 

“Your cousin was a thief. That is enough to keep 
this thing hushed up, is it not?® she questioned, 
turning to her husband. “If you insist upon know- 
ing nsOTe, all I can tell you is that our love, our 
home and our whole life will be ruined if you should 
catch the man whose finger-marks are on,” she 
said, pointing to the davenport, “that neck.® 


CHAPTER Vn. 


A week later Qeverhill had quieted dofwn and a 
solemn stillness reigned everywhere. There were 
no gay voices to be heard any more, nor interesting 
tennis matches taking place. The horses in the sta- 
ble kicked around impatient to have somebody ride 
them. The big gates were closed- 

The mistress of the house never smiled but sat 
around with a book in her hand, not reading, just 
gazing in front of her at some imaginary visicHi- 
The Doctor had not returned to his work since his 
cousin’s funeral and he too, appeared to be in a de- 
spondent mood. Each seemed to wish as iar as pos- 
sible to avoid the company of the other. Between 
them there had been no explanation and though the 
Doctor was trying to treat his wife with every kind- 
ness and consideration, he made a poor job of it. He 
was only human and as each day slipped by, he grew 
more impatient and disgusted with her silence. She 
in her turn, had lost all sense of living and felt that 
drop by drop, her heart was shedding its precious 
blood upon the altar of the cruel and inhuman God 
of Circumstance. Suffering is always the effect of 
wrong thought in some direction. 

Although everything was over and had ended bet- 
ter than could have been hoped, Mrs. Qeverton 
seemed wedded to the past and brooded over her 
misfortunes instead of turning to the future where 
57 


58 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


all sorrow and happiness are melded into an atmos- 
phere of uncertainty. She seemed to be looking into 
a dark abyss which threatened at any moment to 
engulf her and at the bottom, she could always see 
the sneering, taunting face of her brother. Would 
she ever forget her first look at the murdered man's 
face? She would always see him as he had looked, 
kneeling on the floor that awful night, shaking and 
cringing and begging for mercy which he did not 
deserve; a moment later, his awful face, terrifying 
in its grewsome aspect. Then the events which fol- 
lowed quickly one upon another. She could not now 
realize how she had borne up so well. The next 
three days — how terrible they had been when they 
had taken the man's body up to their city home and 
it had lain so still and white in the drawing-room. 
The awful ordeal of the funeral with all her friends 
and acquaintances expressing their sympathy. She 
had felt that every eye could detect those red marks 
on the corpse's neck, which in reality had long since 
disappeared. Then they had come back here, she 
and her husband, but how different it all was. He 
had lost faith in her and now she longed to run 
away and hide where she might speak what was 
passing through her mind, aloud, instead of keep- 
ing it pent up within her being. She could not even 
enjoy the company of her little girl for she felt that 
she was not worthy to touch such an innocent lit- 
tle creature. She longed to cleanse herself in some 
way from this pitiless spell of destiny and she 
turned over in her mind, every possible means by 
which she might yindicate herself even to a small 
degree. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


69 


One day she surprised the Doctor by asking him 
to step out on the porch with her after luncheon* 
He was quick to do so and as she stood leaning 
against the rail, looking just like a tall slip of a girl, 
he put his arm around her in his old affectionate 
way. She shuddered and withdrew herself from his 
embrace. 

“Tom,” she said. She never called him Tom un- 
less she was very serious. “I want to ask a great 
favor of you. I would like to go to the city for a 
few days all by myself. Could you trust me just a 
little bit further, dear? I do not like to ask this of 
you, but I feel that it might do me a great deal of 
good if I could have my own way this time.” 

“I wonT hear of you doing anything,” answered 
her husband, “that might lead you into any danger. 
We have had enough trouble and you are still my 
most precious possession. I value you much more 
than any mystery you have become entangled in, but 
if you’ll promise me that it is just a pleasure trip, I 
shall be willing for you to go.” 

“I cannot promise anything,” she replied shaking 
her head, “but I must get some relief from the quiet- 
ude of this place.” 

He frowned. “We can take a trip anywhere you 
suggest. What do you say that we pack up and 
have a second honeymoon ? We could take our little 
girl with us and sail to Naples again, just as we did 
five years ago. I’m quite enthusiastic.” 

She caught her breath as the delightful anticipa- 
tion of such a voyage flitted across her mind. 

“It would be wonderful,” she repeated dreamily, 
“and I hope that we can go sometime soon. If you 


60 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


will let me go away for a short time I might feel 
more in the humor when I come back.” 

Now that she was standing close to him, she no- 
ticed for the first time that he looked ten years older 
since this trouble of theirs. His face was lined and 
his eyes had a weary look, which she had never seen 
in them before. 

All that he could think of was, that she wanted 
very badly to go away for a little while. She would 
have her own way in the end or else be miserable. 
He had no longer the strength of will to oppose her 
wishes. He would start back to work again, he 
thought to himself. It would be good for him. This 
life that he was leading now was entirely foreign to 
him and was making him morbid. He wondered 
what his patients were thinking about him. He had 
left them in the care of his assistant. This was the 
first time in years that he had taken a holiday, ex- 
cepting when he had been out of town. But for the 
past week, he had felt that he could not put his 
heart into his work and so had left word that he 
was ill. 

A “I guess that there is no use for me to forbid your 
/going,” he declared turning to her, ‘‘but can’t you 
tell me something about this little trip you are plan- 
ning? You know you will have me worried to death 
and I really have no business allowing you to go. 
How long would you be away?” 

“It might be only one day,” she pleaded. “It is 
only a little matter of business and if it would work 
out right, it would lift a weight from my heart and 
mind.” 

“Can’t you tell me,” he asked softly, “the name of 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


61 


the third party in the room that night? You can 
surely trust me and by now you ought to know that 
nothing you could do would change my feelings 
towards you.” 

‘T would like to tell you better than anything in 
the world,” she murmured, “and probably I will 
when I come back.” 

“So then you’re going,” he said hoarsely. 

She did not answer him but put her arm on his 
shoulder and gave him the first kiss for many a day. 
He completely broke down and the tears streamed 
out from his eyes. It is awful to see a strong man 
cry. Perhaps it was better for him that he could 
do so, for it is generally a great relief. He sank into 
a chair and she knelt beside him, not knowing what 
to do or say. 

Yes, she would have to go away for a short time. 
She must warn her brother and his confederates to 
leave town and never molest them again. She 
would have to be the one to do it, for even though 
she told her husband, he could do nothing and she 
still might have a chance of threatening them with 
arrest. She felt that she could frighten her brother 
because he must know that if he were caught, there 
would be no chance for him with his bad record. 
Then, it was just probable that she might be able 
to recover some of Mrs. Houghton’s jewelery. Yes, 
it would be better for her to go without telling the 
Doctor for he would never allow her to attempt such 
a rash thing. 

She looked up and could see that her husband had 
gained control of himself. He took her hand and 
held it in his and looked at it thoughtfully. She 


62 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


arose and stood before him and as he did not try to 
detain her, she slipped away to her room. Now that 
she had decided what she was going to do, she 
called the maid and had her pack a suitcase in view 
of her absence. 

An hour afterwards, she was dressed in her tai- 
lored suit ready to go. She ordered the automobile 
around to the front door, anxious and restless to 
start. She longed to hunt up her baby and kiss the 
little one good-bye, and her heart was aching to 
take the child in her arms before she would leave. 
But even though she felt it would be right to do so, 
she was afraid that she might break down com- 
pletely and so she swallowed the big lump that had 
risen in her throat and bit her lips. 

The Doctor was standing at the machine waiting 
to help her in. 

‘T will send the automobile back as soon as I 
reach town,” she said in a low voice. “Take good 
care of my baby. Good-bye, dear, I will see you in 
a few days.” 

He kissed her hand and the chauffeur started the 
machine. The last she saw of him, he was standing 
in the same place waving his hand, good-bye. 

As they glided down the smooth driveway, she 
caught a glimpse of her little girrs white dress flit- 
ting around on the lawn. At the gateway, MrS. 
Hubbs came out of house, her two hundred and 
fifty pounds of avoirdupois alive with curiosity, 
which was not fully satisfied when she saw the 
young missus all alone, starting for the city. She 
kissed her hand to her and went into the house 
shaking her head. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


63 


Mrs. Hubbs, who had been virtually brought up, 
educated and kept alive by the Bible, did not al- 
ways approve of all her master’s and mistress’s do- 
ings, but she loved them very much and was too 
tactful a woman to let anyone know about it, ex- 
cepting her poor husband, Hezekiah, upon whom she 
vented her opinions in such raging tempers that he 
felt at times it must be he who was the wrong-doer. 

The car shot out into the road and then for the 
first time, Mrs. Cleverton felt that she was indeed 
alone in the world. She kept saying to herself, ‘T’ll 
be back to-morrow.” But she hardly knew whether 
to believe it or not. She laid back and closed her 
eyes. 

One would hardly have thought that this exquis- 
itely dressed, well-groomed woman, reclining in her 
handsome car of foreign build, was passing through 
moments of agony and seething torture. Spectors 
of the past and future arose before her and she was 
not sure but that her footsteps might falter and she 
might turn back without having accomplished her 
purpose. It was only the thoughts of her 'baby that 
kept spurring her on. It would be weak and foolish, 
she argued with herself to forget the hideous past 
now and then have it arise and come before her 
again at some future time when it would be too late 
to warn her brother, and his life of crime would be 
made public, ruining the future lives of her husband 
and child. No! no! She would take a chance on 
warning him while there was yet time. She would 
tell him that the police were hunting him and that 
he had better go far away and never come back 
again. Then she could breathe freely once again. 


64 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


She hoped that he was enough cowed by his last 
crime to be frightened into doing what she sug- 
gested. Yes, surely she was doing the right thing 
in trjTng to scare Wm away. At least she was not 
afraid of her brother, but — a horrible thought crept 
into her mind. She shivered as she could see, stand- 
ing before her in her imagination, the man to whom 
she had been promised by her parents many years 
ago. To deal with her brother would be one thing 
but to deal with Carlo DeZaldo, another. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


When the automobile reached the city, it was 
nearly dinner time. The streets were full of people 
going home from work. Mrs. Qeverton hardly 
knew which way to turn. She did not know whether 
to leave her suitcase at a hotel or to take a chance 
on visiting one of her friends, her own house being 
closed. But just when she was trying to figure this 
out, the comer policeman stopped her automobile 
and another car drove up beside hers. She heard a 
very familiar voice speak her name and turned to 
find herself face to face with a dear friend, Mrs. 
Jimmy Douds, whose car was crowded with a jolly 
bunch of young men, all feeling very happy. 

“Well, this is lucky,” cried Mrs. Douds. “We just 
need another girl in our party. Come on down to 
Rector’s with us and have a dance and a little drink.” 

Mrs. Qeverton shook her head. She felt that her 
mood was not in accord with theirs and wondered if 
ever again she could enjoy their harmless little par- 
ties. 

^ “I won’t take no for an answer,” called Mrs. 
Douds. “Come along. A dance or two won't hurt 
you and you will have plenty of time to dress for 
dinner. You look as though you could stand a 
good bracer.” 


65 


66 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


Mrs. Douds had a way about her that was hard 
to resist. No one could help liking her for she was 
always bubbling over with good humor and never 
harbored an unkind thought. 

Mrs. Cleverton hesitated an instant. Perhaps 
she had better go, for it flashed across her mind 
that Mrs. Douds would be just the person with 
whom to leave her suitcase as she was a woman 
without a drop of suspicion or curiosity about her. 

“Pll join you,” called back Mrs. Cleverton. ‘TVe 
an engagement at half past seven but I can spend an 
hour or two with you.” 

“We’ll see you at Rector’s in a few minutes,” an- 
swered Mrs. Douds, as the two automobiles sepa- 
rated. 

Within the next ten blocks Mrs. Cleverton had 
planned what she was going to do. First, she would 
join Mrs. Douds’ little party at Rector’s, although 
she did not feel much in the humor for dancing, still 
she could manage to kill the time there until it 
would be late enough to expect to find her brother 
in his usual haunt. She would leave the party and 
slip quietly away to put in execution her long 
thought out plans, and if all went well, would re- 
turn in time to join her friends later in the evening. 

When she reached Rector’s a few moments later, 
Mrs. Doud’s was waiting for her at the door and 
greeted her effusively. She was introduced to the 
rest of the party which consisted of four young men, 
all of the type that have plenty of money but not 
brains enough to earn a day’s living. They went 
upstairs and procured a table on the ring side. Mrs. 
Cleverton was immediately besieged for dances and 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


67 


she could hardly refuse, so she danced with each one 
of them in a mechanical sort of way. Coming back 
to the table, one of her partners turned to her and 
remarked. 

“How cold your hands are. Do you feel sick?” 

“No, I was just wondering,” she replied, “whether 
I remembered to send my chauffeur back home 
again. I guess he will have to eat his dinner now. 
It’s quite a long ride down to the country.” 

The young man jumped up. 

“I’ll go down and tell him immediately,” he said, 
glad to have the opportunity to do something for 
her for she had completely fascinated him, even in 
the short time he had known her. 

“Wait a moment.” She opened her gold bag and 
took out some money. 

“What are you doing that for?” asked the young 
gentleman. 

“I want you to give this to my chauffeur for his 
dinner.” 

“Not on your life,” he called back as he hurried 
off. 

“So you’re going to stay in town for some time,” 
said a voice at her elbow. 

She turned to the gentleman at her right. 

“Oh, not very long, I hope,” she replied. “I just 
came down on a little matter and I want to get back 
as fast as I can.” 

“I can’t tell you,” he murmured gently, “what it 
would mean to me if you would stay with us this 
evening.” 

She felt nauseated. What was there about her? 
What had she done to merit such remarks from an 


68 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


almost perfect stranger? Did she look like a wo- 
man to whom men could talk to in any way they 
pleased? She looked at the young fool and could 
see that he was somewhat under the influence of 
liquor so she decided not to say anything. 

Mrs. Douds was having a lovely time. She was a 
stout woman with very blonde hair and not a few 
persons thought her a little too flighty. She was 
fond of drink and a good time but there was no 
harm in her. Still she should have been more cau- 
tious about the way she acted in public places. Just 
now she could have been heard speaking even above 
the din of voices and music. Mrs. Cleverton heard 
her say, “This is some party. Let’s make it a good 
one while we’re at it.” 

“Say, Alma, dear,” she said, turning to Mrs. Clev- 
erton, “you’ll stay with us this evening, won’t you ?” 

But Mrs. Cleverton did not hear her. The young 
man who had gone down to direct her chauffeur, 
had returned and was calling her attention to a 
queer looking couple on the floor. They were any- 
thing but graceful and one could not help but won- 
der how they managed to dance at all, for the 
lady’s knees were firmly tied and she could scarcely 
more than slide. Mrs. Cleverton could not help 
laughing heartily. She was beginning to like this 
young man; he was so courteous and had such a 
sense of humor. 

“Just one more dance,” he pleaded. 

She assented and they were lost in the crowd. 
When they returned to the table again, she hap- 
pened to glance down at her watch bracelet. It was 
after seven o’clock. She gave a little start and grew 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


cold all over. She would have to hurry away for 
she did not wish it to be too late when she would 
have to return home through the district to which 
she was going. 

The champagne had flowed like water and the 
glasses had been refilled again and again. Mrs. 
Cleverton had taken more to drink than usual in 
hopes that she might be strengthened, but she felt 
so weak at the thoughts of leaving that she asked 
for a drink of whiskey. When she announced that 
she was going soon, there was a chorus of regrets, 
but she remained firm. 

‘T’ll have to leave you people for a little while,” 
she said, “but Fm going to ask Mrs. Douds to take 
charge of my suitcase, for I may return later in the 
evening and if you can tell me where I could locate 
you after the theater, I will try and meet you all.” 

“You can spend the night with me, dear,” broke in 
Mrs. Douds, well pelased. “I’ll be awfully glad to 
have you.” 

“Thank you,” replied Mrs. Cleverton. “I proba- 
bly will accept your invitation. I hope it won’t be 
any bother for you to look after my suitcase.” 

“Oh, we’ll do that all right,” laughed the young 
man at her right. “It’s the only way we can be 
sure that you’re coming back again.” 

She took the drink of whiskey she had ordered 
and drank it quickly. She would indeed need a 
bracer. Her young friend with whom she had just 
danced, escorted her downstairs and called a taxi. 
He looked very sad at having to part with her. 

A few moments later, she was gliding along the 
brilliantly lighted streets. 


70 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


“Where to?” asked the chauffeur, twisting his 
head around through the open window. 

She gave him the address of a street corner, then 
sank back in a tension of anxiety. As she rode 
along, she envied the automobiles filled with gay 
people on their way to dinner, from which when 
they passed them, she would catch the echo of 
laughter. 

It was not long, however, until the car in which 
she rode, turned out of the well lighted district into 
a side street and soon it seemed to her that they 
were in another world. The streets, as they rode 
by, were filled with dirty, poorly clad children, sing- 
ing, dancing and playing — most of them in their 
bare feet. It was hard to keep from running over 
them. On the sidewalks, boys were throwing mar- 
bles. Their little faces, prematurely old. Some of 
them mere children, were smoking cigarettes and 
chewing tobacco while their parents sat upon the 
doorsteps watching them, evidently approving of 
all they did. 

Mrs. Cleverton shuddered. It was all such a fa- 
miliar sight to her. She thought of certain remarks 
which were often made about poor people being sat- 
isfied with their lot, not knowing the meaning of 
riches. Well, yes, this was true in a way, but how 
easily she had learned to love the beautiful things in 
life, and how now, steeped in luxury, she could al- 
most forget these poor creatures. 

The taxi stopped and looking out, she found her- 
self at the place she had bidden the driver to put her 
down. She paid him and he drove off. 

Now, indeed, she was all alone. She was dressed 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


n 


in a dark suit but even so, she attracted a great deal 
of attention and she realized that she ought to have 
waited until it was later. She hurried onward, anx- 
ious to have the whole thing over. Warm and tired 
and nauseated from the odors which are never very 
pleasant during the summer months in a district of 
this kind, she picked up her skirts in order that they 
should not become contaminated by the dirt and 
filth of the sidewalk. 

She turned the corner and there in front of her 
Stood the place which she dreaded so much. 


CHAPTER IX. 


On a certain street in one of the lower districts of 
New York City stood a saloon, and although it 
looked as if it were about to topple over, it had been 
for fifty years the most popular rendezvous in the 
neighborhood. 

It was built of red bricks which were worn and 
black with age. It looked like a dismal place but 
Patty O’Brien, the proprietor, was so well known in 
the neighborhood as a genial and good fellow, that 
it was always crowded with men quaffing his cool 
glasses of beer and loafing about. Three stories in 
height with a large stairway leading up to the floors 
above. It was called by the name of “Good Fellows 
Hotel.” A sign which hung on the outside of the 
door, announced to all that boarding and lodging 
could be had within. Not that anyone had ever 
lodged there, for Patty, his wife and children lived 
on the second floor and the top floor for many years 
had been rented by a sort of club. So, if any per- 
son had applied for a room, there would have been 
nothing but the roof left for him. 

The evening of a certain day on the third floor of 
this same hotel, the members of the mysterious club 
were gathered together. 

All except one were men. 

73 


JHE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


73 


There was only one woman and she, poor thing, 
looked as though she were about to take a trip to 
the next world in a short time. 

The rooms of the club were three. One, a bath- 
room; one, a kitchen and dining-room combined, 
and the third a meeting-room, which was very often 
used as a bedroom for at times when any of the 
members were out of funds, they slept here and as it 
was generally the case, it might as well have been 
called a bedroom. 

It was in this room to-night that these people 
were gathered. 

The men sat around a table in the center, throw- 
ing dice, laughing and talking and many a curse 
was heard from the lips of one’s whose luck was not 
running so well. 

There were five men in all. 

Upon a divan in the corner of the room, lay the 
woman half sleeping. 

About the place, strewn on every available chair 
or table, were dirty glasses half filled with stale 
drinks and the air was so thick with smoke that 
one could cut it with a knife. 

Very often during the day just passed, the men 
had stopped their game, and going to the kitchen, 
helped themselves to a drink of brandy or whiskey 
or whatever happened to be handy. At other times, 
one of them had gone over and shaken the poor half 
dead creature on the couch, ordering her to bring 
in the implements necessary with which to take a 
shot of dope. 

She would drag herself to the kitchen, warm 
some water, bring the alcohol and then each man 


74 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


would take a turn, while she stood by, begging for 
them to give her some also. Sometimes they would 
do as she asked, but once, the man who seemed to 
be her boss, instead of complying with her wish, had 
taken his fist and hit her such a staggering blow that 
she reeled to the floor, but nothing daunted her. 
She had crawled more dead than alive to where he 
sat and grasping him about the legs, continued to 
beg for a little of the dope. 

The day had dragged on and it was long past din- 
ner time now. The blinds were drawn tight and so 
the inmates of the room could not see that daylight 
had almost vanished. The hour was a quarter to 
eight. These people had not eaten all day and for 
two days and nights, had not left this room. They 
had lost all track of time. 

One man seemed to be having all the luck and as 
he swept the money off the board, the oaths from 
the others grew louder and louder. 

“Shut up, you jack asses,” he growled. “You'll be 
having Patty up here next. You know damn well 
we have hard enough time keeping this place with- 
out causing more trouble.” 

“Yes,” said another man, with a muttered curse. 
“You've got a lot to worry you, ain't you? You 
two dividing half the jewels between you, while 
we've got to divide ours in three parts.” 

“You were too cowardly to help us play that lit- 
tle game,” answered another. It was Pierre. “You 
don't deserve none of the loot, but as we aint of the 
caliber to desert our friends, we was good enough to 
go halves.” 

The fourth man who had not spoken at all and 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


75 


who sat with his eyes closed, now opened them 
wide. They were shining brilliantly. It was Tony, 
the man who owned the woman lying on the couch. 

“What good are the jewels?” he whined sarcasti- 
cally. “They might as well be in hell. We don’t 
dare to sell them or pawn them.” 

“Ndt now, you cursed fool,” snorted Carlo, the 
first man who had spoken. “But our day’s cornin’ 
and as for me, I’d give every blamed diamond to get 
my gal who was tricked away from me.” 

They all looked up in surprise. 

“I suppose you mean what you’re sayin’,” Tony 
muttered with bated breath, “for I’ve a good mind 
to take you up. A kidnapping job is a dangerous 
game, but expenses is high these days.” 

A human life meant nothing to him, and well, for 
a few diamonds, there was scarcely anything he 
would not do. 

“I’m crazy for her,” moaned Carlo. “There ain’t 
never been no woman that could get me, like her. 
I’d go to hell for her. I’m crazy for her.” 

“Well, if there is any lives to be taken. I’ll let 
you fellows do it this time,” said Pierre. “I’ve had 
enough for the present. Not that I cares about my 
sister with her swell airs and fine home. I’d rather 
see Carlo have her than that damn swell doctor.” 
He pounded his fist on the table and looking straight 
at them, went on, “I’ll further it as far as I can go, 
as long as it’s not across dead bodies.” 

“Well,” muttered Tony. “A livin’s is a livin’ and 
me trying to keep that gutter rat lying over there,” he 
pointed a dirty finger at the bedraggled form, “keeps 
me hustling. If you mean what you said, damn 


,76 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


you,” he went on turning to Carlo, *T’ll bust my 
windpipe to get the reward.” 

“I mean it,” said Carlo, leaning forward eagerly, 
clenching his fist with such vigor that the long nails 
drove into the flesh of his hands. “Anyone of you 
critters who brings me that woman can have my 
share of the jewelry.” 

There was a loud laugh. One of the men who had 
not spoken, slapped him on the back. 

“You’re talking awful highfelutin’, ain’t you, old 
pal?” he snickered. “How about the lady up the 
Avenue? She’d make it hot for you if she’d hear 
this.” 

“Close your trap” howled Carlo. “That female is 
just an old bunch of rags compared to my Kiddo. 
I’ll be gol darned if I care what that hussy thinks. 
No woman ain’t goin’ to run me.” 

“Except this classy dame you’re always cryin’ 
around about,” continued the man. 

“Well, I guess not,” screeched Carlo. “When I 
get her where I want her, she’s goin’ to pay for all 
the sufferin’ she’s caused me, these past years.” 

“Quit your fighting,” said Pierre. “My throat’s as 
dry as a Sunday School picnic. I’m goin’ to slip a 
couple of brandies under my belt. Whoever’s with 
me, come along.” 

He disappeared into the kitchen and they all fol- 
lowed him. 

When they came back. Carlo brought the bottle 
with him and sat it down with a thud on the floor 
by the side of his chair. 

It was an awful sight — these five ruffians doped 
and drunk, some with the blood of their victims on 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


77 


their hands, while others were planning in their 
minds how to send more souls into the Unknown. 

They started to throw craps again but as formerly, 
Carlo swept all the stakes from the board. His luck 
was phenomenal and as he scooped in his winnings, 
he looked like a fiend incarnate. 

There was an awful silence. Not a word was 
spoken and the players frowned more and more as 
their luck grew worse. 

Tony stood up hoping it would change his luck 
and was just about to play when suddenly there was 
a light tap at the door. The men jumped up from 
their game and swept the dice from the table. 

The woman on the couch sat up. It was unusual 
for anyone to knock at this door, excepting the land- 
lord and as he weighed nearly three hundred pounds, 
he could generally be heard coming for two flights 
of stairs. 

“What shall we do,” whispered Tony hoarsely. 

“You all file into the kitchen,” commanded Carlo. 
“I’ll stand ground here.” 

Tony went over to the couch and grabbed the wo- 
man by the arm with no gentle grip. He pulled her 
up and flung her almost headlong through the door 
into the next room. 

After the door had closed upon them all. Carlo 
seated himself nonchalantly and lighting a cigarette, 
called, “Come in !” 

The door opened gently. A woman stood in the 
opening, hesitating uncertainly for an instant. She 
looked around her finally and stepped forward. 

Carlo did not move in his chair. He was stunned 
with surprise. It seemed impossible that this wo- 




THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


man could have come here of her own accord. He 
thought he must be dreaming. He watched her, 
without winking an eyelash — for a few seconds un- 
able to move. But when she came near to him, he 
realized that his dream had come true. The intoxi- 
cation of her beauty and dainty suppleness swept 
over him and he rose like an animal about to jump 
on its prey. 

“Where is my brother?” asked the lady haughtily. 

Carlo let out a shriek of laughter and stepped for- 
ward. 

She cringed and her face blanched when she read 
the meaning in his eyes. 

He pounced upon her, pinioning her arms to her 
sides, while he rained kisses upon her face and neck 
with such violence that her hat fell off and her hair 
came down. 

The others in the kitchen grew tired waiting and 
when they opened the door, it was thus that they 
found him. 


CHAPTER X. 

Two hours later. 

The club rooms had taken on an entirely new as- 
pect. The gas burned low and silence reigned every- 
where. The bedroom was in complete darkness ex- 
cept for a streak of light which came from beneath 
the door that led into the kitchen. On the couch 
lay a woman, evidently in a state of unconsciousness 
for she neither stirred nor moved. Her head rested 
on a dirty pillow, while an old tablecloth had been 
thrown over her for a covering. On the floor be- 
neath her, sprawled the poor wretch that had for- 
merly occupied the couch and seated by the table, 
his head in his hands, sat Carlo in half a stupor. 

He was trying the best he could with his dead- 
ened brain, to puzzle out just what he would do 
now that he had this woman under his power. It 
was not safe for him to keep her here any longer. 
Her husband, whose suspicions must have already 
been aroused, would probably be trying to find her 
by this time and he had both the means and brains 
to employ the best detectives in the city. This was 
the thing which the gang feared most. She would 
79 


80 


THE UNPARDONALBLE SIN 


have to be taken away immediately. It would be a 
hard job, he feared, but a man full of morphine is 
usually more cunning than one who has had a good 
night’s sleep and a two mile walk in the morning air. 
But it would be hard to catch him now, for nothing 
less than death could make him give this woman up. 
The fact that she had been so hard to get made him 
more crazy about her than ever. 

When she found that she was absolutely in his 
power, she had given in, but she had indeed put up 
a good fight. 

Mrs. Cleverton was not sleeping but she was in a 
semi-conscious state and was trying to think clearly 
of what had happened. She realized now that it was 
too late. How foolish she had been. She had al- 
ways imagined that her brother would protect her 
but he had just laughed when she had begged him 
for mercy. Neither threats nor pleadings had been 
of any use. She had promised them money — large 
sums — more than they could ever hope to possess, 
but without avail. They feared her too much now, 
thinking that if they would let her go free again, 
she would turn the whole police force upon them for 
the way she had been treated. She knew at last 
that there were no hopes for her. She had struggled 
with all her strength against Carlo’s advances, but 
she had not succeeded. Her vacation from this dull 
and sordid life was over. She was born for this and 
now she could never go back to her husband. There 
was no use to struggle. Her husband and child 
were lost to her forever. 

She knew that she had been doped. She knew also 
that they would keep her in this state for under the 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


81 


influence of the drug, she was like wax in their fin- 
gers. 

She was beginning to regain her self-control. The 
poor thing lying on the floor beneath her, raised her- 
self on her elbow and whispered hoarsely. 

“What was you saying in your sleep? You make 
me nervous. I had one of them myself, one time.’^ 

“What did I say when I was sleeping?” moaned 
Mrs. Cleverton. 

“You kept saying, ‘My baby, my baby!’ and I 
don’t like to hear it for it makes me think of my lit- 
tle brat that was took away from me.” 

“You mean that you had a little baby,” said Mrs. 
Cleverton, trying to keep her voice low. Here at 
last was a small cord of sympathy. 

“Yes, I did,” sighed the woman, “but Tony, he 
says to me at the time, ‘We can’t have no brats 
hanging around us’ and he takes the baby from me 
and was goin’ to throw her in the river. He says to 
me, ‘Stop your bawlin’. They don’t feel nothing 
more than mice do, when they’re young like this and 
the likes of us can’t be raising a brood.’ Then I 
looks down on my baby and sees its cute little eyes 
blinking up at me and its cute little head so warm 
and round and its poor little arms and legs so thin- 
like, and I begs him not to throw her in the river 
but to leave her on the pavement where she might 
be picked up. We couldn’t take it to a hospital for 
fear we might be caught. The last I saw of my 
poor little gal was when he took her away in a 
basket.” 

There was a groan from the woman on the couch. 
No words came from her lips. She put her hand 


82 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


over and touched the poor thing on the head. She 
herself, was going through something of the torture 
this woman had felt when her child had been taken 
away from her. 

But they had been talking too much. Carlo had 
heard them and he came over to where they were 
and stood looking down upon them both. Then he 
gave the woman on the floor a kick, rolling her away 
from the foot of the couch. He knelt down beside 
the woman he loved so insanely. 

Carlo was an illegitimate child of a woman of re- 
finement and good social standing in Spain. To hide 
the scandal of his birth, he had been brought to 
America and put in an Orphan Asylum, where he 
had received a very poor education and when still a 
young boy, he had been thrown upon the mercies 
of the world and had gone from bad to worse, until 
now he was as desperate a character as could be 
found anywhere. He was a handsome creature and 
if he had possessed enough money to dress well, he 
would have been very distinguished looking. Even 
now, in the clothes which he could buy, he had a 
certain air of distinction about him which made it 
possible for him to pull some jobs that his rougher 
looking companions could not attempt. He was the 
possessor of an almost perfect physique and looked 
like a picture of a Greek God. His hair was dark 
and wavy and his eyes, which one seldom saw, for 
they were always half closed, were black as night; 
when he smiled he showed a most perfect set of 
pearly white teeth. He was, indeed, called the 
‘"King” amongst all the unfortunate girls of the un- 
derworld. From boyhood he had been crazy about 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


83 


this woman. Even when she was a child, he had 
seen great possibilities in her and had begged her 
parents to allow her to attend public school. So it 
was through his efforts she had obtained some edu- 
cation and at that time, she had been very fond of 
him, but as she had grown older, and ripened into 
young womanhood, she had become very much 
afraid of him for he had always treated her as 
though she were his own possession. 

Then he had left for Spain to try and ferret out 
his mother from whom, if he succeeded, he had 
hoped to extort a fat sum of money, but before leav- 
ing, he had made an agreement with her mother and 
father that she should be his, promising them a big 
present if they would consent, which they did. 

During his absence, which lasted one year, they 
had both died, and Alma, their little daughter, had 
found herself alone in the world with no protection 
excepting her brother’s, which was worse than 
nothing, for he did not contain within him even a 
seed of decency. It had been a lucky day for her 
when Dr. Cleverton opened a way of escape. For, 
sometimes as is the case, a girl is born in the slums 
with an unusual sense of refinement and culture. 
When she was a child she had not appreciated her 
few years at school, but realized later that it had 
changed her whole life for her. She had hoped 
and prayed that her brother would never find out 
where she had disappeared to, knowing that he and 
Carlo would molest her as long as she had a cent 
of money or an atom of good looks. 

Yes, Carlo loved her with his whole heart and 
soul and the very fact that she hated him, made him 


84 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


more crazy about her. His ideas of love, however, 
were of a crude nature for he was nothing but a 
brute and looked upon all women as his inferiors. , 
He would have thought nothing of beating her had 
she displeased him in any way. With a man of this 
kind, it just depends upon his mood, whether one 
is treated kindly or kicked in the dirt. 

To-night, after a terrible burst of passion at the 
scorn and hatred she had shown for him, he had be- 
come very much subdued and was now trying to be 
a gentleman. He had no doubt in his mind that 
sooner or later she would come to love him and he 
intended to do all in his power to bring it about. 
She shuddered as she felt his hot breath upon her 
cheek and turned listlessly away. He remained mo- 
tionless upon his knees and gazed at her as though 
he could never see enough of her. He murmured as 
gently as he could. 

“We’ll go away from here. Just you and I, my lit- 
tle bird. I want you all to myself and I’ll make you 
happy. Don’t be afraid of me. You’re my girl and 
honest you’re the most beautiful thing in the world 
that I ever seen.” 

She did not speak until the words had finally sunk 
into her brain. 

“Where are you going to take me?” she groaned 
hoarsely, without turning. 

“Anywhere there’s no danger of anyone catching 
us. So far from New York that the people there 
have never heard the name of it. We can’t stay here. 
The further we go the better,” he answered in a 
tremulous voice. 

“I want to go home,” she begged piteously. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


85 


He took her hands in his and held them so tight 
ithat sharp pains went dancing up her arms. 

“You may go,” he hissed, “right now. I’ll have 
Lizzy dress you. You can go right away.” 

■ The pain in her arms spurred her to consciousness 
and she lifted her head. He was safe in saying that 
she could go. She could never go home now. She, 
too, wanted to go far away. 

“Let’s hurry,” she cried. “Let’s get away for fear 
it might be too late.” 

Just as she uttered these words, the door opened 
and four men filed in. 

“It’s all settled, old sport,” said Pierre, clapping 
Carlo on the shoulder. “There’s a horse and wagon 
downstairs. We’ll drive you out to a hole where 
nobody ever seen your face to hop your train. You’d 
better get a move on. We threw her clothes in the 
river. “If they’re found, they might think she’s 
drowned.” 

The other two men stepped forward and laid some 
bundles on the table. 

The poor woman on the floor arose painfully and 
opened them. There was a complete set of clothes 
containing a dress of black, a widow’s hat and veil. 

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Cleverton was fully 
dressed in her new apparel. Then came a careful re- 
treat down the long flight of wooden stairs, which 
creaked unmercifully. Finally they reached the 
ground floor. Just opposite the door stood a con- 
veyance. It looked like a grocery or meat wagon. 

One of the men stepped out to see if the street was 
clear and then she was lifted in someone’s arms and 
laid on the floor of the wagon. A moment later 


86 


JHE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


they were jogging down the street — the first part of 
her journey was started. 

The mysterious voices of the night whispered 
sadly as they hurried along through the blackness 
on a seemingly endless way into a new life of dark 
and dreadful things. The wagon rocked and swayed 
like a boat tossed on a stormy sea, bumping and 
bruising the huddled up forms within. Too tired 
and worn out to be keenly observant, Mrs. Clever- 
ton was filled with every torment but the pain of 
forlorn hope. 


CHAPTER XI. 


When Dr. Cleverton said good-bye to his wife on 
the steps, a lump came into his throat and he could 
not rid himself of it. He did not like this business 
at all. 

He should not have agreed to his wife going away, 
he kept saying to himself, and he hardly knew what 
to do. He felt that he ought to follow her but 
knew that this would make her very angry if she 
should find it out. 

It had been insane of him to allow her to carry 
this thing to such extremes. He tried to forget it. 
He went into the garden and played with his little 
girl. Then he walked down to the gateway and 
talked to Mr. Hubbs but the picture of his wife as 
she waved farewell would not leave his mind. He 
found himself growing more and more restless. 

When he came back to the house he did not feel 
in the humor to change his clothes for dinner and 
his hands trembled so much that he could not tie 
his necktie. He had a man who took charge of his 
things, but he was too independent to be pampered 
by a valet. At dinner time, he could eat very little 
and it was a terrible ordeal for him to sit through 
^ the courses served to him. 

Finally, when the moon came up in all its glory, 

87 


88 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


he could stand it no longer. He ordered his road- 
ster around and started for town. He would have 
done this long before but he knew when he left 
the house, that he was cutting all means of commu- 
nication from his wife away from him and he had 
hoped to hear from her sometime soon. He had no 
idea where he was going, when he would arrive in 
town, but anything was better than to sit alone in 
the splendor of a beautiful summer night with the 
crickets and locusts setting one’s nerves on end and 
a terrible feeling of impending evil filling one’s be- 
ing. So, when he was finally rolling along the 
country roads, a certain sense of exhilaration came 
over him bringing a temporary relief from the ten- 
sion of the moment. 

He decided that once in town, he would first of 
all call up everybody with whom she could possibly 
be staying, hoping in this way to locate her. In his 
heart he felt that his efforts would be futile. After 
that, he would make a tour of all the popular cafes 
in the city and if he could not find her in one of 
these places, he would certainly employ detectives as 
a last resource. He could not imagine why she 
should be so secretive about everything that she did. 
He knew that she was a very nervous woman and 
always over anxious about everything, but he was 
wounded very deeply because she would not confide 
in him. 

She had told him something of her younger life. 
How her parents had died and she had been left 
alone in the world and he always had known that 
they were very poor people and lived in wretched 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


89 


circumstances. He had never questioned her fur- 
ther for the subject had seemed painful to her and 
men are not so inquistive as a rule as women. Her 
beautiful character, which had been unfolded to him 
gradually as the years rolled by, had calmed all his 
fears while he felt a keen sorrow for what she must 
have suffered before she became his prodigy. So, he 
had never dwelt on the past for he wanted very 
much to make her happy and tried to ward off any- 
thing which would be likely to make her sad. She 
told him that she had neither ties nor relatives 
living and as far as possible, she wished that chap- 
ter of her life to be a closed book. She was now 
only ripening into womanhood, having just passed 
her twenty-third birthday, while he was a man of 
thirty-five. 

He began to think for the first time, that there 
must be something in her past which was worrying 
her now. He had been foolish in not demanding a 
keener knowledge of her family affairs. Ignorance 
is not always bliss and sometimes it brings a multi- 
tude of sorrow which might have never been born 
had everything been known. 

It was ten thirty when the car reached the city. 
The roads were clear of traffic and so he had been 
able to make very good time. The Doctor went di- 
rectly to his office and called up from there every 
person his wife knew intimately. Some of them 
were in bed ; others out on pleasure bent ; while still 
others were at home and could give him no news of 
her. It took a lot of nerve to call such people as 
the Houghton’s and a few others who knew how 


90 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


strangely his wife had been acting, but he felt that 
the need was urgent and he would not allow per- 
sonal feelings to interfere. 

He finally turned from the telephone, completely 
dejected. He went back once more, however, and 
called his country house to find out whether there 
had been any message left for him. When he was 
told no, he felt his brain in a whirl for an instant 
and he sat down in helpless bewilderment, not know- 
ing where to turn next. 

He tried to argue with himself. She had told him 
that she would be gone a couple of days so why 
should he worry, but he shook his head. It was im- 
possible for him to endure this agony any longer. 
He would do everything in his power to find her 
to-night and then he would try to compel her to 
make a clean breast of her peculiar actions. 

He went down to his car again and started to 
make a round of all the dance places. As there are 
a great number of them it was no easy task. 

At two thirty in the morning all hopes had almost 
left him and he was weary and despondent. He 
knew that it would be useless for him to go to bed 
for he would not be able to sleep anyway. Sud- 
denly, he thought of a new roof garden which had 
just been opened and he hurried to the place. 

As he entered, gay couples were just leaving. 
Many in different states of inebriation. He looked 
closely at every one as they passed hoping to see a 
familiar face but it seemed again that his efforts 
were to be of no avail. He looked across the large 
room. Most of the tables were vacant now but at 
the further end sat a woman surrounded by men. A 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


91 


second look told him who it was ; dear, jovial, little 
Mrs. Douds, whom everybody liked so well. He 
did not know whether to go and speak to her or not ; 
although she and Mrs. Cleverton knew each other 
well, he hardly thought that his wife would pick out 
Mrs. Douds from all her friends in New York as the 
one with whom to stay, but a sense of loneliness 
crept over him and he felt in the need of human sym- 
pathy, so he crossed over to her table and spoke to her. 

“Why, Dr. Cleverton!” she said, rising in sur- 
prise. “WeVe been waiting for your wife all even- 
ing. She promised to meet us here after the thea- 
ter and I still have her suitcase in my possession. 
Won’t you sit down and have a drink?” 

“My wife,” he gasped, “was to have met you here 
and she hasn’t arrived yet? I don’t understand it.” 

“Well, neither do we,” replied Mrs. Douds. “K 
has been an awful disappointment to us all. She 
looked so beautiful this afternoon and we begged 
her not to leave us.” 

“Tell me all about it,” insisted the Doctor. 
“Where did you meet her and what time did she 
leave you?” 

“We had tea at Rector’s,” said Mrs. Douds, trying 
to collect her thoughts. “I met her on Fifth Ave- 
nue and teased her to come along with us.” 

“And what time did she leave you?” went on the 
Doctor, trying not to seem too anxious. 

“It was just twenty-five minutes after seven,” 
broke in one of the gentlemen, “when I put her in a 
taxicab.” 

“Do you know where she was going?” asked the 
Doctor. 


92 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


“No, I don’t,” replied the young man. 

“She seemed very nervous,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Douds, “and I thought it rather peculiar for her to 
come to town all alone. I’ve been worrying about 
her all evening and am glad to see that you have come 
after her.” 

The Doctor looked at the men around the table 
and as none of them seemed to be paying much at- 
tention to what he was saying, he turned and whis- 
. pered to Mrs. Douds in a tense voice. 

“I don’t know where she is and I must find her to- 
night. If you would only help me. I cannot tell 
you why I am so worried but I feel that everything 
is not all right.” 

Mrs. Douds gave a start. Although a woman who 
never judged others harshly, she had within her that 
thing which is usual in her sex. What woman is 
not curious and does not love a secret? 

“Let me help you,” she whispered excitedly. “I’m 
crazy about fathoming out mysteries. Tell me what 
you are going to do. Has anything awful hap- 
pened ?” 

“No!” answered Dr. Cleverton. “My wife has 
just^iisappeared and I don’t know where to find her. 
That is all but I think it is enough. Now I’m going 
to a detective headquarters and if you could only 
leave this crowd and come along with me, I would 
always regard it as a very great favor. You could 
give them a good description of Mrs. Cleverton and 
fust how she looked and acted when you were with 
her. It would help a lot for you are the one who 
saw her last.” 

The rest of the party were looking at him cu- 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


03 

riously. They began to think this promised to be a 
scandal and that the Doctor and his wife must have 
quarreled. 

“So you are the gentleman who put my wife into 
the taxicab this afternoon ?” said Dr. Cleverton, turn- 
ing to the young man. 

“Yes,” he admitted, half frightened for fear he 
was suspected of assisting her to elope. 

“What address did she give the driver?” asked Dr. 
Cleverton. 

“She said she preferred to wait until they were 
started,” the young gentleman replied. He was be- 
coming bored. 

The Doctor could say no more. She had vanished. 


CHAPTER XIL 


It seemed to Mrs. Cleverton as she lay in the bot- 
tom of the wagon that the ride would never end. 
They had left the city far behind them. She knew 
that, because she could smell the delicious air of 
the country. Nothing mattered to her now, any- 
thing to get away. She hardly cared what their 
plans might be. When she had begun to moan, one 
of the men had given her another dose of morphine 
to quiet her nerves and she had slept for a short 
time. She laid passively enough when she was 
awake. Goodness only knows they had no reason 
to be angry with her on that account. She felt sorry 
for the poor horse who must surely be tired and 
sore from the beatings that were administered con- 
tinually. 

She must have fallen asleep again for when she 
awoke, one of the men gave her a good slap on the 
back to arouse her and when they helped her out 
the back of the wagon, she could see that they were 
in a small town. They had hardly alighted upon 
the street until somebody started up the horse and 
she found herself alone with Carlo. He had a suit- 
case in his hand. He took her by the arm and 
started on a lively pace down the street, almost 
pulling her along behind him. 

Suddenly she heard the tooting of an engine and 
94 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


95 


so surmised that they must be near a station. Pres- 
ently, they came in view of it and it looked very 
cheerful and well lighted after the dark streets of 
the sleeping village. They entered and Carlo tried 
to make her comfortable on a seat while he crossed 
the room and started a conversation with the ticket 
agent. 

Carlo had a very genial manner about him and 
became very confidential with the man. She heard 
him tell the agent that he was taking his sister out 
West as her husband had just died out there and 
that they had come in from the country as quickly 
as possible, but their horse had gone lame so they 
had walked the last two miles. 

The ticket agent sympathized with them and of- 
fered to do what he could to make Mrs. Cleverton 
comfortable. 

“She is overcome,” said Carlo, “by the death of 
her husband and I’m very much worried about her.” 

Mrs. Cleverton lay more dead than alive upon one 
of the hard benches and Carlo walked back and forth 
impatiently. He would never feel safe until they 
had boarded the train. Then pretty soon they could 
hear the shriek of the engine and the train rolled 
in like a great long snake and stood panting and 
puffing at the depot. 

In a moment they were on it and it had pulled 
slowly out. Mrs. Cleverton half walking and half 
reclining, was taken into the drawing-room and laid 
on the bed. She remembered no more until it must 
have been late the next afternoon. When she awoke 
to consciousnss the sun was shining and she was sit- 
ting fully dressed, propped with two or three pil- 


96 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


lows behind her back, on one of the seats. Oppo- 
site her sat Carlo, half dozing, but she noticed that 
he was well shaven and looked the part of a well-to- 
do man. She felt sure that he did not have much 
money and that he was staking his last cent upon 
getting her far away. 

To her, life or death meant nothing and she dared 
not think of her husband and child. It would have 
broken her heart. She closed her eyes and tried to 
dream of beautiful things. She went over her whole 
wedding trip in her mind. She remembered how, 
when waking up early in the morning of her first 
day in Italy where she had been staying in a won- 
derful hotel in Naples, she had thrown open her win- 
dow and the delicious aroma of honeysuckle and 
roses mingling together, had almost made her swoon 
in ecstacy. How in the evenings they had dined 
upon the open porch of the hotel, looking right 
across at Vesuvius. How luscious were those lit- 
tle pats of unsalted butter; the fish from the bay; 
the delicious Italian wine; the odor of her hus- 
band^s cigar and the feeling of comfort which a wo- 
man can only have when she is living in dainty and 
cleanly surroundings. Then she could see her hus- 
band as he had clasped her hand across the table. 
He had surely loved her then. No queen would ever 
be treated better. 

She dozed a little again. The next vision that 
came to her mind, was one in which she saw her 
baby for the first time. She remembered how hor- 
ribly jealous she had been of the nurse and how she 
would call her back again and again to look at its 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


97 . 


little feet or remark about its tiny fingernails which 
looked as though they had just been manicured. 
Her husband had never left her an instant before 
the baby was born and for many hours after, had 
sat silently at her bedside holding her hand in his 
and constantly taking her pulse. She remembered 
he had said, “We’ll never have any more children. 
You are more precious to me than a whole house 
full.” During her convalescence he had never left 
her but to eat his meals. Those three weeks after 
the baby was born could never be torn from her 
mind. She was sorry when she had become healthy 
and hearty once again for the delightful companion- 
ship of her husband had made the days pass with 
wings of lightning. It had been as near Paradise as 
she would ever expect to be. 

She fell asleep again. This time when she awoke, 
her thoughts were not so pleasant. She began to 
wonder what the Doctor was doing at home as she 
was speeding away in the train. She was afraid he 
might be lonesome. No, he was lucky to get rid of 
her. Still, he had always loved her very much. She 
could see their room at home. It must be very lone- 
some for him to go to bed there alone. Then, too, 
he had always believed that a mother should stay 
with her child. My God! She must not think of 
her little girl. She could not stand that. She could 
feel the little arms around her neck and the soft lit- 
tle lips on her cheek while a little voice seemed to 
be saying, “Good-night, mudderl” 

She sprang from her seat, shrieking, “Stop the 
train!” 


98 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


Carlo jumped up and threw her back again. ‘‘Shut 
up, damn you,” he said. 

“Give me some morphine,” whispered Mrs. Clev- 
erton. “Pll die if you don’t.” 

“You’re gettin’ the habit,” said Carlo. “I’ve a 
notion to cut it out on you.” 

“Please give me some more,” begged the poor 
woman. “If you don’t I’ll commit suicide.” 

Carlo laughed confidentially. 

“No, you won’t,” said he. “I’ll see to that. I 
haven’t taken a chance like this for nothing. The 
only way you can get anything from me, is to treat 
me right. See! And keep your blubbering mouth 
still. Screaming and shrieking ain’t goin’ to do you 
no good and the next time you try that game on 
me. I’ll give you a good heatin’.” 

He locked the door of the stateroom, proceeded to 
the lavatory, and then coming back, administered a 
little more of the drug to her and she quieted once 
again, and lay back satisfied. 

Late that night, they were nearing Chicago. 
Carlo shook Mrs. Cleverton and awakened her just 
an hour before the train would pull in, and then 
tried to force her to eat something. She had not 
touched food all that day and he was afraid she 
would collapse. Finally, he made her eat a little bit 
of fruit, although she craved for nothing but drink. 

In Chicago, they would have to change trains. He 
had procured accommodations and all they would 
have to do would be to step from one train to the 
other. Still, Carlo did not want any scene for in 
large stations there are always plenty of detectives 
and plain clothes men who watch everybody, but by 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


the time they arrived at their destination, he had 
worked Mrs. Cleverton into just the condition which 
he desired and it was not long before they were once 
more settled down on the second and final lap of their 
trip. 

The next day as the scenery grew more and more 
interesting, Mrs. Cleverton’s dreams became more 
wonderful. 

Carlo began to gain confidence as they neared 
their destination. They had now been on the train 
two nights and two days and this was the third day. 
In the morning they would leave the train. Carlo 
was contented as long as she did not repulse him. In 
some of her dreams she imagined him to be her 
father, her brother or her guardian or anything but 
what he really was so she would cling to him des- 
perately as though he were her best friend in the 
world. But what Carlo wanted was her love. He 
did not wish to be treated as a father and he deter- 
mined that when he would have her in a place where 
there was no danger of attracting attention he would 
bring her to her senses. 

The next morning at six o’clock the train stopped 
at a small station. The town seemed composed of 
hardly more than a row of shanties. It took just a 
short time to help Carlo and his supposed wife off the 
train. Everyone else was slumbering. Jhe train 
pulled out. They were alone at last. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


In the meantime, Dr. Cleverton had been passing 
through a very busy time. He had gone to the 
largest detective bureau in the city in company with 
Mrs. Douds, and he had offered a large reward for 
the return of his wife. 

Mrs. Douds had given them all the information 
that she could and for once, Dr. Cleverton had not 
held anything back. 

The first steps the detectives had taken were to 
find out from the different taxicab companies the 
man who had driven Mrs. Cleverton to her desti- 
nation the afternoon before. It had taken them 
pretty nearly a day to do this but by evening they 
had located him and from him, they found out to 
what part of the city she had gone. 

“The first thing we shall try to do,” said the head 
of the detective bureau, “will be to find out who mur- 
dered your cousin.” 

When the Doctor had started to tell the truth, he 
had not realized that in searching for his wife he 
was going to unearth the scandal which he had tried 
so hard to keep quiet. 

“When we find the man,” said the detective smil- 
ing, “we shall have the key to this whole mystery.” 

100 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


101 


*T hardly think,” protested the Doctor, ‘‘that my 
wife would associate with murderers.” 

The detective laughed. 

“You may be all right at doctoring people,” he 
declared, “but you have bum reasoning power. I 
don’t mean to say that your wife, sir, harbors any 
love for the man whoever he is, but she certainly 
had some reason for protecting him.” 

The Doctor cursed at himself inwardly. He had 
no one to blame for this thing but himself. Why 
had he been so unsuspecting? 

He went home early that evening to the hotel 
where he was staying in a dangerous mood. He 
felt that if he did not find his wife soon, he would 
go mad. He took a strong dose of sleeping powder 
and laid down in bed, fully dressed in case he would 
be called hurriedly. Tired in body and mind, he was 
soon sleeping soundly. The next morning he was 
awakened by the ringing of the telephone. He 
jumped up surprised when he noticed that the sun 
was shining. When he answered the ’phone it was 
one of the men on the case who spoke. He said that 
he would be around in about twenty minutes for an 
interview. The Doctor hurriedly dressed himself in 
fresh clothes and then ordered breakfast in the room. 
When the detective arrived, he was waiting anx- 
iously for him. 

“What news?” were his first words, after he had 
closed the door and shaken hands. 

“I have sad news for you. Doctor,” announced the 
man. 

The Doctor grasped the chair for support. “Go 
on,” he groaned. “Tell me the worst.” 


102 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


**Don’t lose your nerve/' said the detective. “It is 
not as bad as all that. We traced your wife to the 
house where she must have gone. She was seen by 
many people who were sitting in their doorways, try- 
ing to get a little fresh air and we easily identified 
her through their descriptions.” 

“Hurry — tell me,” cried the Doctor, his throat and 
lips so dry that he could hardly speak. 

“Sir, I'm sorry to say,” went on the detective, 
“that the house she entered which was called the 
‘Good Fellows Hotel' was entirely burned to the 
ground the night before last.” 

The Doctor fell back into his chair, his whole 
frame shaking and the tears rolling down his cheeks. 
He could stand no more. He felt sure now that his 
wife was dead, but what a death it must have been 
all alone suffering the tortures of fire. He sobbed 
and sobbed and the man opposite him hardly knew 
what to do. 

“You know,” exclaimed the detective, “we have 
not given the case up yet. We are going to keep 
right on until we find out something more definite. 
Don't lose heart.” 

But the Doctor was past all words of consolation. 
He just shook his head as though there was noth- 
ing left for him in life. Finally, he whispered in a 
low voice, “Tell me all that you know,” and then he 
covered his face with his hands and waited for the 
detective to speak. 

“Well, sir,” went on the detective, “We found 
the place in a mass of ruins. The fire wrecked a 
whole row of houses. The proprietor of the hotel 
and his family escaped and when I questioned him 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


103 


about a strange woman being in the place, he said 
that he had seen nothing of her. It seems that be- 
sides his own family, he thought there was no one 
else in the house but a poor half demented creature 
who cleaned the rooms on the third floor and he feels 
sure that she must have been the one who started 
the fire. I know nothing more, sir.” 

“Who lived on the third floor?” asked Dr. Clev- 
erton in a stronger voice. 

“Mr. Patty O’Brien, the gentleman I have just 
been speaking of,” replied the detective, “says they 
were dagos that he has known for a good many 
years. He could not tell me their last names. He 
was so excited at the time that he asked me if I 
would not come back later for my information.” 

“You must go back this afternoon,” insisted the 
Doctor. “I must know the names of those men.” 

“And so must I,” replied the detective. “For if I 
can catch them the whole story will be an open 
book. It was too bad that the crazy woman died 
from her burns or we could have gleaned all the 
information we needed from her.” 

“I want you to put all the men you can on 
this case,” exclaimed the Doctor. “Even if my wife 
is dead I want to catch those dagos.” 

“Well, good-bye, sir,” said the man standing up. 
“Pm going to hurry on now for one can’t lose time 
in this kind of work. I’ll let you know just as soon 
as I receive any information which would be of in- 
terest to you. There is no need of your staying here, 
sir. You might as well go to your home. You 
would be more comfortable there.” 

The Doctor found himself alone a few minutes la- 


104 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


ter. He could not stay in this room with its bare 
walls and unsympathetic atmosphere. Yes, he had 
something to live for. He thought of his little girl 
in the country, motherless now. He knew that his 
wife would rather that her child be taken care of 
than anything else in the world. He would not de- 
sert his post and should this awful disaster which 
had come upon him, turn out for better or for worse, 
he would at least be found doing his duty. 

He went to the ’phone and called the garage to 
order his machine around and then he sat down to 
wait. He did not want to go down into the lobby 
for he felt that he could not bear to come in con- 
tact with anyone that he knew. 

The telephone bell rang and when he answered it, 
it was Mrs. Douds speaking on the other end of the 
line. 

‘‘What news have you heard?” she asked. “I’m 
pretty nearly as much worried as you are.” 

He could hardly answer her. 

“I’ve had nothing but bad news,” he replied in a 
broken voice. “I’m afraid that my wife will never 
come back again.” 

She continued to talk but he hung up the receiver 
and broke down again. 

There was a knock at the door and a bell-boy told 
him that his machine was waiting at the door. He 
poured himself a glass of whiskey from a flask in 
his valise and then started downstairs. 

He jumped into his automobile and ordered the 
chauffeur to hurry, for fear he should see some fa- 
miliar face. Here he was going back home where 
he had been so happy with all his hopes gone. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


105 


As he passed along the country lanes the sight of 
everything familiar scorched his eyes. He was 
weighed down with a sorrow such as comes to few 
men, for he had only himself to blame and so the 
way before him looked long and weary. He felt i 
that he had not the right to call himself a man. He 
had held the opinion of the world in too much re- 
spect. Now he would care for nothing if he could 
only hav^ his wife back again. 

When he came to the gateway leading to his 
house, Mr. and Mrs. Hubbs stood waiting to speak 
to him. He could not answer their questions and he 
saw them shaking their heads. He longed for some- 
one to take into his confidence, but after all, who is 
there in this world besides perhaps a mother or wife 
in whom we trust enough to confide. Now that he 
had none of these, he would have to bury his sorrow 
in his own bosom. He had thought himself a strong 
man but the first real sorrow he had ever known, had 
made him as helpless as a little child. 

He alighted from the automobile in a hazy sort of 
way. The servants which he had employed for many 
years, gathered around and tried to do what they 
could for him. Most of them thought that he was ^ 
losing his mind. 

Somehow, he managed to get to his room. Just a 
week ago he had shared this room with his wife and 
there was her dear little white bed which would 
probably never be touched again. He had sense 
enough left to send for his child and the nurse 
brought her half fearfully, for she had heard in the 
servants* hall that the master was acting in a queer 
way. 


106 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


When his little girl saw him, she ran towards him 
calling, “Daddy, daddy, daddy 

He held her at arms length for a few seconds and 
then drew her into such a close embrace that she 
screamed with fright. 

The nurse was very much alarmed but dared say 
nothing. 

“Your mother is gone, darling,^^ he cried, “and 
you are all I have left. I’m going to take care of you 
myself. You’re going to be daddy’s own girl for I 
know your mother would have wished it to be so.’^ 

The nurse was stunned. She had not heard that 
Mrs. Cleverton was dead. 

The baby not understanding, tried to get away 
from her father and go to the nurse. 

He felt that a knife was cutting his heart in two 
when his little girl wanted to leave him. 

“Yes, your mother’s dead,” replied the sorrow- 
stricken father, “and I know that her last words and 
thoughts must have been of you, darling. I’m 
never going to leave you again.” 

The child struggled and finally freed herself. She 
ran to her nurse and hugged her about the knees. 

“Nurse,” said Dr. Cleverton, “you have been very 
good and faithful and you may continue to stay 
here because you are fond of my little one but I am 
going to take care of her myself.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


The glorious summer had long since passed. The 
days had become shorter and November was ush- 
ered in promising to be a dull and dreary month. 
Father Time had lifted with kindly hand, the bitter 
memories off many an overburdened heart. There 
was one left whose anguish increased rather than 
decreased and even he had learned to veil from hu- 
man eyes any outward appearance of his sorrow 
and kept it smoldering within himself while his hair 
grew grayer each day and the lines of thoughtful- 
ness and kindness in his face gradually molded them- 
selves into expressions of sorrow and sadness. He 
was indeed a changed man. 

He had never been able to go back to his life as a 
physician for he could not bear any more to see 
suffering and pain, so he had given up his practice 
and remained at home with his child. His spirit 
broken, his nerves on the verge of a collapse, the 
tie between him and his little daughter had grown 
stronger each day. He was never without her for a 
moment if he could help it and to see this big man 
undressing the little girl at night and putting her 
into her little bed beside his own, was pathetic 
enough to bring tears to the eyes of a stony-hearted 
wretch. 


107 


108 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


Nothing more had ever been heard of his wife and 
no trace could be found of the men who had lived 
above the saloon. The Doctor was disgusted with 
the whole detective force. He himself had inter- 
viewed Mr. Patty O’Brien, and although he had 
learned the names of the Italians from him and had 
a good description of each one, in the end it did him 
no good for they had vanished. 

He had never been able to fathom out the reason 
why his wife should have gone to such a place as 
the one which burned down, or why she had tried to 
protect any of those men. She had always had a 
love for culture and good breeding and he knew 
that none of them had possessed these traits. He 
held her memory too sacred to allow himself to think 
further. 

It had been an eight-day scandal and the news- 
papers had not spared her good reputation. But he 
had been surprised to find how many loyal and true 
friends she really had for nobody who had known 
her intimately could believe the things that were 
published. The world had gone on just the same 
and everything had quieted down and even now, a 
few months afterwards, there were only probably a 
few people who would have remembered reading * 
about her. 

Day after day, he sat waiting, watching and hop- 
ing that the telephone bell might ring and bring him 
some glad tidings, but when it had rung, it had al- 
ways been the voice of some friend on the other end 
of the line condoling him for his loss.' Now he had 
thought about her so much and the memory of her 
had become so dear to him, that he could almost feel 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


109 


her presence near him in the spirit. He would 
never forget when, with his little child, he had bid- 
den farewell to his country home and come to the 
city for the winter. He had known in his heart that 
he would never care to go back there again to live. 
For although he loved the place, it held too many 
bitter memories for him. It was here that he had 
wooed and won his wife and this was the place they 
had come home to from their honeymoon. Their 
child had been born in the room in which they had 
slept for many summers. He felt it would be better 
to keep tender associations out of his mind as far as 
would be possible. 

Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs had cried when he and little 
Alma had departed. They had come up to the house 
to help close it up, for although they took charge of 
it all winter long, still it stood on the top of a hill 
and during a very cold spell in the winter time, the 
wind would lash it ferociously so they generally 
boarded the windows. Then, also, the house con- 
tained many valuable articles and as they kept the 
furnace going during severe spells of weather, it 
would afford too tempting a lodging place for stray 
tramps. All Mrs. Hubbs could do was to shake her 
head while Hezekiah, whose rheumatism always 
grew worse when his spirits were low, groaned as 
he worked until his wife reprimanded him sharply. 

“You’d make a cheerful companion for the mas- 
ter. Forget your limbs for a minute. He’ll be think- 
ing you’re not fit to do your work any more. Look 
at me, your wife, two hundred and fifty pounds and 
not a sound from my lips.” 

“Well,” groaned Hezekiah. “You’d never reached 


110 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


that two hundred and fifty pounds if you had worked 
as hard as me.” 

“Go along,” growled his wife. “I ain’t going to 
make any scene right here. It’s been more work to 
me to keep you moving than if I’d done it myself.” 

“Woman,” replied Hezekiah, “can you feed on the 
Bible the way you do and speak falsehoods?” 

“I’m as good living a soul as there goes,” snorted 
Mrs. Hubbs. “Don’t you be holdin’ religion up to 
me, Hezekiah.” 

Just then little Alma had run into the room and 
the quarrel had been discontinued. Mrs. Hubbs, 
whose words always made her seem so hard and 
stem, had grasped the little one to her bosom and 
she, the cross woman of a moment before, was 
dropping tears upon the little girl’s golden hair. She 
tried to wipe them away hastily for fear Hezekiah 
might see her but she felt as if she had not suc- 
ceeded. Perhaps it was because she had such a 
tender heart beneath her terribly domineering man- 
ner that Hezekiah had married her. 

Then came the last farewell. Poor Mrs. Hubbs 
had never seen her master cry but as he clasped 
hands in farewell, with his faithful old retainer, he 
shook like an aspen leaf and Mrs. Hubbs had lifted 
her apron and hurried away as quickly as she could. 

Then the Doctor had taken his little girl into his 
arms. The chauffeur tucked them in well with a 
fur robe, and soon they had glided out of the dear 
familiar gate. The Doctor’s eyes had been blurred, 
his heart sick and he had felt all that remained to 
him in life was the dear little form he held so close 
in his arms. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


111 


Their home in the city, which was of course, much 
smaller than their country house, was opened and 
ready for occupancy and when Dr. Cleverton and 
little Alma had arrived there, they were greeted by 
their old faithful servants who had come to town 
three or four days before to open the house. 

But the Doctor had taken his little one into his 
arms and hurried up the stairs to his own room. 
He wished to be alone with her. He had grown 
very self-conscious during the last month or two and 
he never felt at ease any more excepting when he 
was by himself or with his little daughter. 

Everything about was elegant and beautiful in 
the small but conveniently built house. The child 
had been delighted and when her father had re- 
moved her coat and hat, she had run about the room 
admiring and examining everything. 

‘‘Does my little darling like her new home?’' Dr. 
Cleverton had asked softly as he smiled down upon 
her. “Some day when my little girl grows bigger, 
I’m going to take her away off on the choo-choo.” 

“Where to, daddy ?” the little girl had cried. 

“Well,” Dr. Cleverton had replied. “We’ll go out 
West where the oranges grow and we’ll do nothing 
but play in the sunshine. Maybe I’ll buy you a lit- 
tle donkey if you want one.” 

“I want to go now,” the child had pouted, pursing 
her dainty lips. 

The Doctor had thought for a moment. It might 
indeed be wise for him to take a trip and a good 
thing for the baby. He had lifted her gently to his 
knee and said, “Well, little sweetheart, let’s pack 
our trunks and be gone.” 


112 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


But now, two months more had passed and they 
had not started on their trip yet. Dr. Cleverton 
fully intended going, but he kept lingering on at 
home in hopes that he might be able to locate one 
of the men whom he felt sure could tell him some- 
thing of his wife's death. 

This very day he had been down interviewing Mr. 
Patty O'Brien again, who he had found in the best 
of spirits. In place of his old rickety saloon, there 
was a fine new building going up and it was whis- 
pered amongst the people who lived in the neighbor- 
hood of the “Good Fellows Hotel" that Patty had 
done well to get the insurance money. In fact, many 
doubted that it really was the poor slavy on the third 
floor that had set fire to the place. 

To-day, Mr. O'Brien had nothing but good things 
to say about his former boarders. They had always 
paid their rent and minded their own business. He 
had never had any trouble with them. 

He was very gracious with the Doctor, however, 
for through him he had received a great deal of no- 
toriety which he felt sure would help his business 
along when he would open up again. Those lines 
in the paper, “FAMOUS DOCTOR’S WIFE MYS- 
TERIOUSLY DISAPPEARS. Can Give No Reason 
For Action. Was Last Seen Going Into The ‘Good 
Fellows Hotel,” would likely mean a small fortune to 
him. 

He promised Dr. Cleverton to-day that if he would 
leave his address he could go away feeling perfectly 
sure that he, O'Brien, would wire him if one of the 
long lost gang were to turn up. 

So the Doctor had hurried away and before re- 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


113 


turning home, had secured reservations for his trip. 
He was going for sure this time. He felt that it was 
his duty to try and bring himself back to his former 
state of health. He arrived home in the best spirits 
he had known for many a day. 

The baby had looked at him seriously and then 
throwing her arms about his neck, had lisped, ^‘Dad- 
dy^s happy.^’ 

“Yes, dear,’’ he replied. “We must hurry and 
pack up. We are going West in a week.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


The little town of X was not a cheerful place 

at its best and during the month of November, 
everything was damp and cheerless. The hideous 
little hovels which were called houses, stood bleak 
and bare and lashed by the wind. One could hardly 
think of a place outside of Hades which one would 
rather avoid. Perhaps it was because of its uncheer- 
ful aspect that many of the inhabitants did prefer 
the warmer climate down below and seemed so care- 
less about how they would get there. 

There was only one main street, one grocery and 
drug store combined and another odd looking build- 
ing which hung out a sign on which it said, ‘‘Life 
Saving Station & Thirst Parlors.” 

It was to this town that Carlo and his supposed 
wife had come almost six months before. I shall 
say Carlo and his wife, because they had become 
known by that name. Mrs. Cleverton^s own real 
name had never been mentioned for Carlo knew 
that the world was small and that she probably was 
being searched for everywhere. So she was simply 
known and called by the name of Missy. 

They had settled down in one of the wretched little 
hovels and now if her best friends had entered the 
114 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


115 


door, they would hardly have recognized the beauti- 
ful Mrs. Cleverton in the woman who trudged back 
and forth between the two rooms in which she lived. 
One was used as a bedroom ; the other as a dining- 
room and kitchen combined. The floors were cov- 
ered with odds and ends of dirty second-hand rugs, 
but for the most part they were bare. The rough- 
est kind of furniture was placed about the rooms in 
a crude and untidy manner. In one corner of the 
bedroom, there stood a large bed which had seen 
better days. It sagged very much at one corner for 
one of the legs had been broken off and replaced by 
a board while the mattress looked as though it were 
full of corn cobs. What once might have been a 
clean sheet, lay over the top of it and a dirty blanket, 
half on the bed and half on the floor, played the part 
of a covering. There were no pictures in either 
room and the atmosphere which never lost its odor 
of stale coffee and tobacco, would have sickened any- 
body but one who was used to it. 

This morning. Missy hurried about the kitchen 
trying to clean it up before her husband would 
come in. She had a pot full of coffee on the tiny 
stove which was almost too small to hold it, so 
that it would be ready in case he should come home 
unexpectedly. Every time she would hear a slight 
noise, she would give a start and look around like a 
hunted animal. Her once slender and diaphanous 
form was nothing now but a bunch of skin and 
bones. Her cheek bones protruded and her hair, 
done up in untidy fashion, formed a frame for a 
face that was all eyes. Such eyes. They were the 
only human things left about her. The feverish 


116 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


bright look in them would have sent the cold chills 
down one’s back while her cheeks which varied from 
deadlike paleness to a deep pink, gave reason to the 
low hacking cough which had become so annoying 
of late. 

Carlo had been out all night gambling as usual. 
It was his only way of earning a living and it was a 
common occurrence for him not to return until long 
after breakfast time. When he did come in, though, 
he would expect his meal to be ready for him and if 
it was not, God help her ! 

At the present time she was a mass of bruises 
from the beatings he had given her when luck went 
against him. It was she who always bore the brunt 
of his ill will. She had long forgotten that she had 
ever been happy. She never allowed herself to think 
of that time in her life and now she had become so 
wild for morphine or any other drug which would 
bring beautiful dreams to her, that she just lived 
from one day to the next for their wonderful effects. 
Her only fear was that she might die sometime 
when she could not get hold of anything to relieve 
her pain. That would indeed be dreadful. 

As she lagged back and forward this morning, 
looking out of the window now and again, she did 
not know whether she would rather have Carlo come 
home or stay away. She liked to have a little com- 
pany, for since the weather had turned so cold, she 
had not been able to go out. She had no coat heavy 
enough to keep her warm and her bare feet showed 
through her well worn shoes. 

The door was thrown suddenly open, but instead 
of Carlo, the woman who lived next door stood on 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


117 


the step, hesitating until she would be asked in. 

“Well, Missy,” she asked finally, “may I come in?” 

She could see the poor creature give a sigh of 
relief. 

“IVe been a missin’ you lately and thought Fd 
just come over and see if you was well or not.” 

“Thank you,” answered Missy, trying to smile. 
“Fm feeling about the same as usual but I don’t 
think Fm going to last long, it is so cold out here. 
Maybe if I could see a doctor Fd be better.” 

She looked at her neighbor. She had in her heart 
a soft spot for this woman who had tried to mother 
her, although she knew her to be only a poor coarse 
soul. She felt that she had never met a better per- 
son in her whole life and she could see that this poor 
soul had a feeling of sympathy for her which no one 
else ever felt. 

“Well, I just came over to tell you something,” 
remarked the woman, called Mrs. Tanney. “I think 
there’s a doctor coming to town but he will be here 
for only one day to sell some kind of medicine to the 
drugstore. I wish you’d see him.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Tanney,” replied Missy as she 
put the coffee on to warm again. “You’re awful 
good to me. I’ll ask Carlo if I may.” 

“You crazy woman,” growled Mrs. Tanney, pre- 
tending to be angry. “You’re nigh dead on your 
feet and you can’t blind my eyes. Your husband 
don’t care no more than fly whether you’re above 
ground or beneath.” 

“Well, I can’t cross him,” answered Missy in a 
frightened tone. “I wouldn’t dare do that. You 
know he owns me. He bought me.” 


118 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


“How much did he pay for you?” laughed Mrs. 
Tanney, sarcastically. 

‘T think a million dollars,” declared Missy se- 
riously. “You know my mother and father were so 
rich but they lost their money and along came Carlo. 
He said to mother, T wan’t to marry into a swell 
family. What will you take for that girl?' Father 
said, ‘Nothing less than a million dollars!' They 
didn't consider me. I married him and he has had 
no money since.” ' 

She sank to the floor sobbing. 

Mrs. Tanney shook her head as she gathered the 
girl into her arms. 

“Listen here, darling,” she said, “you're too young 
to give up like this. If you can't stand it over here 
any more, come on over to my house. I'm enough 
for ten men and the sight of you worries me. Some- 
how or other, you don't belong here.” 

Both women were so wrapt up in what they 
were saying that they did not hear anyone enter 
the room until a plaintive little voice said, “Grand- 
ma, come on home and play with me.” 

Missy jumped to her feet. There before her stood 
a little girl. Perhaps not beautiful like her own 
child had been and maybe not even the same age, 
but when she saw the little one, she gave a shriek 
which pierced the air and frightened Mrs. Tanney 
and the little girl so much that they started for the 
door. 

“Come back,” sobbed Missy. “Who is that child ?” 

“I forgot to tell you,” exclaimed Mrs. Tanney, 
very much relieved. “My daughter's come up from 
the ranch where she lives and she's expecting an- 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


119 


other one. This is her oldest little girl, but if you 
don’t like children I’ll see that she keeps out after 
this.” 

“Oh, God ! I love them,” cried Missy, falling on 
her knees and opening her arms, hoping the little 
child would come to her. “They’re the only things 
on earth which I do care about.” 

The little child turned back. She had been fright- 
ened but children can feel instinctively the people 
who are really fond of them so she just hesitated an 
instant and then came to where Missy was kneeling 
on the floor and allowed herself to be fondled. 

Mrs. Tanney heard her poor neighbor laugh for 
the first time. She seemed to be a different person 
when she was talking to the little girl but it was 
not to last long. 

The door swung back with a thud and there stood 
Carlo with such a fierce look on his face, that Mrs. 
Tanney took the child from Missy’s arms and hur- 
ried away. 

“Get up, you fool, you,” growled Carlo crossing 
the room and bringing his fist down with a heavy 
thud upon the kitchen table. “Look to my break- 
fast, you whimpering, sniveling scarecrow. Morn- 
ing’s no time to be having callers. Clean this place 
up,” he went on, going over to her and giving her a 
kick. “Stop your blubbering with a lot of females 
and their kids.” 

“I have your coffee ready,” she pleaded in a low 
voice. “I’ll bring it to you right away. Would 
you like an egg?” 

“Egg — hell,” he said, turning to her threateningly. 
“I’m doing well to have a cup of coffee. If my luck 


120 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


runs me the way it did last night, this place will be 
too expensive for us. We’ll have to get out and 
move on.” He laughed sarcastically. “You’ve been 
bad luck to me. You’re my Jonah and I’m going to 
make you pay for it, I am. I wish I’d never taken 
on myself the burden of such truck as you. Come 
here!” he commanded. “Get down on your knees 
and beg for mercy for I’m going to give your dry 
old bones a good beating.” 

She came over to him shaking like a leaf, and 
knelt by his side. She had passed through this 
many times before. He took her roughly by the 
ears and looked down upon her. 

“Well, if you’ve got any good looks left, I ain’t 
able to see them. Still some of the men up the road 
seem to be admiring you. I suppose you’ve been 
making eyes, you damn deceitful sow.” 

“No ! no ! I haven’t,” she cried. “I haven’t been 
out of doors for two weeks.” 

He took her by the shoulders and shook her so 
roughly that her teeth chattered. Then he flung her 
back on the floor where she lay not daring to move. 

“I want to warn you,” he hissed between his 
teeth, “that if my luck ain’t changed to-night, I’m 
going to put you out to earn some money for me.” 

“No, no! Not that,” she almost yelled, jumping 
up at the same time. “Anything but that. I’ve not 
fallen so low yet and you’re beside yourself, dar- 
ling.” 

She tried to put her arms around his neck but he 
pushed her off and sneered. 

“You’ll do as I say when the time comes or you’ll 
go to an early grave.” He picked up a breadknife 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


121 


from off the table and waved it threateningly 
through the air. 

“Let me get you some dope,’^ she begged now 
that she could see that the storm was partly over. 
“You’ll be feeling better pretty soon.” 

“Well — get it” he ordered harshly. “I’ll have 
some, but no more for you. It’s too expensive a 
luxury. I’m paying all I can for your keep.” 

She said nothing but disappeared into the next 
room and presently came back with the necessary 
articles. 

He closed his eyes and took a long breath. She 
stood by him until she could see that the drug was 
taking effect and then she helped herself to a dose. 

Five minutes passed. 

He opened his eyes. “Come here gal,” he said 
in a different tone than he had used before. “Sit 
on my knee. We’ll pull through this damn business 
somehow. Don’t worry. I’ll never let the likes of 
another man lay hands on you.” 

She bore his caresses without a word and closing 
her eyes, allowed him to have his way. 


CHAPTER XVL 


That same night after Missy had cleaned up the 
dinner dishes and put everything in as much order 
as she could, she finally dragged herself weary and 
aching to her dirty bed. She was completely fagged 
out and the effects of the last dose of morphine she 
had taken were wearing off. Her weary body was 
giving full vent to its wrath for being ill treated. 

Although it was very early, she could not keep up 
any longer, and it had been a great relief to her 
when Carlo had gone out. He had slept most of 
the day on their only bed and she had not even 
dared to go into the room for fear of waking him. 

She had only rested for a moment or two when 
she realized that she would have to get up and take 
some dope or she could never sleep. She was almost 
afraid to do so for their supply was running very 
low and it was hard to procure any more in this 
small town, but she could not stand it any longer, 
so she arose and helped herself and going back to 
bed once more, fell into a deep slumber. She was 
awakened by a loud knocking at the door. 

She sat up and rubbed her eyes and it seemed to 
her as though she had slept a long time. She gath- 
122 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


123 


ered her senses together and hurried to the door. 
She was very fearful about opening it, not knowing^ 
what to expect. But she heard a familiar voice out- 
side. 

As the door flew open, Mrs. Tanney stepped in. 

“Come quickly,” cried Mrs. Tanney, “and help 
me. My daughters just had a child and the little 
girl you saw this morning ain’t very well.” 

Missy waited to hear no more. She was com- 
pletely dressed for she never took off her clothes 
excepting to wash them. She did not even bother 
to throw a coat over her shoulders as it was only 
about two hundred feet to Mrs. Tanney’s little home. 
She hurried along, Mrs. Tanney keeping pace with 
her. 

The house to which they were going was some- 
what more comfortable than the one in which Missy 
lived. It contained four rooms, which, though 
poorly furnished, were very homelike. As they en- 
tered the kitchen they could hear someone moaning. 

Missy rushed in and Mrs. Tanney hurried after 
her, begging her to keep quiet. 

The sick woman lay in a big feather bed in Mrs. 
Tanney’s bedroom. She was a poor frail little wo- 
man and Missy could hardly see her for she was 
almost completely hidden by a featherdown. 

“Where’s the baby?” asked Missy eagerly. 

Mrs. Tanney pointed to a soap-box. “There he 
is,” she smiled, “and he’s a fine big boy.” 

Missy hurried over and looked at the poor little 
thing who seemed comfortable enough in his rough 
crib for he was sleeping away — sucking his finger at 
the same time. 


124 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


As she bent over the little infant she could hear a 
voice in the next room calling, “Mama !” 

“I guess I had better go to her?” questioned Missy 
anxiously. 

“It wouldn’t do no harm,” said Mrs. Tanney. “Pll 
take care of these two. She’s been lying quiet but 
I was afraid they might all start up at the same 
time and you said you was fond of children.” 

“I’m glad you came for me,” answered Missy, as 
she disappeared through the door into the next room. 

The first time for long weary months she felt a 
smile playing about her lips. It would do her good 
to minister to the sick ones for the sight of these 
helpless creatures brought her tired brain back for 
an instant to consciousness of suffering human na- 
ture. 

The little girl was lying on a mattress in one cor- 
ner of the room and seemed to be in some pain. 
When Missy came and stood over her, she stirred a 
little, opened her eyes and cried for her mother. 
Missy rolled her in a blanket, picked her up in her 
arms — then seated herself in a rocking chair and 
began to hum in a low tone to the child. But the 
little one cried so piteously that she thought she 
ought to call Mrs. Tanney and ask her what she 
should do to relieve the child. 

Mrs. Tanney came in when she heard her voice. 

“Have you no medicine,” asked Missy, “that you 
could give to this poor little girl?” 

“I just gave her a prjetty strong dose of medicine,” 
replied Mrs. Tanney, “before I left to get you. It’s 
hardly had time to work.” 

“If you want me to help you,” said Missy, “just 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


125 


call me. I don’t know much about nursing but I 
could do as you tell me.” 

‘‘They’re both lying quiet for the present,” Mrs. 
Tanney whispered. “I guess they’re sleeping. I 
don’t mind this kind of work. I used to be a mid- 
wife before I came here but I’ve lost my knack — I’ve 
had so little practice.” 

Missy looked down at the child in her arms and 
could see that she was dozing off, so she put her fin- 
ger to her lips and Mrs. Tanney catching the signal, 
tiptoed out. 

When she had gone. Missy closed her eyes and 
rocked to and fro. The sight of a dear little face so 
near her own, somehow made her feel queer. Some- 
where away back in the past she remembered her 
own child, and now as she looked at the little one in 
her lap, she seemed to see the face of her little 
daughter and when she closed her eyes, she could see 
the child reaching out her arms and saying, “Come 
home, mother. Daddy and I want you.” Yes — she 
could even hear the voice. Surely, somebody must 
be saying this for it seemed so real to her. Her 
poor brain had long ago ceased to work rationally 
but now she felt her blood surging up all through 
her body while familiar voices whispered to her 
again and again, “Why don’t you go home?” 

The little sick girl had fallen asleep and Missy 
held her in a hungry embrace as tenderly as though 
she were her own. Her arms became numb, but 
she scarcely noticed them and when the little in- 
valid asked for water, she laid her down for just a 
moment — gave her a drink and then took her back 
into her arms again. She put her hands on the 


126 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


child’s face and it felt very feverish. She wished 
that day might dawn so that she could venture up 
to the drugstore to get her some medicine. She was 
so thankful that Carlo was out this night for she 
could never have come over to help Mrs. Tanney 
and would have missed these few hours of exquisite 
pleasure. Every deep and delicate fiber of her being 
responded to the call of this sick child and her brain 
had been stimulated to an activity which it had not 
felt for months. 

Streaks of daylight started to come through the 
torn blind before Missy laid the sick child who was 
now sleeping calmly, on the mattress, and went to 
the window to look out. The sun was rising in all 
its wonderful glory in the east. She stood and 
watched it for a moment, and even though it prom- 
ised to be a beautiful day, her heart felt heavy for 
she knew that she would have to go back home now. 
Her lord and master might return at any time. 

She went into the kitchen and called Mrs. Tanney. 

“What do you think I had better do?” she said 
simply. 

Mrs. Tanney shook her head. “I guess you know 
best. The invalids are all right now and I can man- 
age somehow for the present.” 

She could see the look of despair at the thoughts 
of leaving, which showed so plainly on Missy’s poor 
little face. 

“I could go home,” said Missy eagerly, “and come 
back later. My husband will kill me if I’m not there 
when he returns.” 

“Why don’t you break away from all this, you 
poor gal?” exclaimed Mrs. Tanney, taking her 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


127 


hands. ‘*Why don’t you leave here and go home 
again ? Surely, there’s somebody waiting back East 
there, who would be glad to see the likes of you.” 

Missy’s eyes filled with tears as she whispered in 
reply. ‘T’ve got to stay with my master for he owns 
me and he would follow me to hell. Some day I’m 
going, though, for last night I heard my little baby 
calling me. I guess may be she was inviting me 
away from here.” 

“You have a child?” exclaimed Mrs. Tanney, very 
much startled. 

So after all there was a mystery about this wo- 
man. But Missy did not seem to hear her and did 
not answer. 

Mrs. Tanney went to the door with her and 
watched her make her way homeward. 

When Missy entered her own little hut, she could 
see that the fire had died down long ago and she 
hustled about trying to put things in order. 

The hours rolled on. Eight, nine, ten o’clock 
and still Carlo did not come. This was unusual. 
She knew that there was not much chance to gamble 
during the day for most of the men worked on 
neighboring ranches and had to be gone early in the 
morning. She could not understand his absence and 
it made her very nervous. How would he return to 
her? 

She felt very weak and longed to take some mor- 
phine but there was so very little left that it was in 
fear and trembling she helped herself to a dose. She 
was anxious also to go back to Mrs. Tanney’s and 
see what she could do for the sick ones, but she 
dared not leave home for an instant as it was very 


128 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


strange and out of the ordinary for Carlo to be so 
late. She tried to think of numerous things that 
would please him and finally sat down to wait until 
his dreaded return. 

She stepped into her bedroom for a minute and 
she did not hear the door open and close, but when 
she turned to go back into the kitchen, she could 
could see him standing in the middle of the floor 
and horrors; He neither spoke nor moved, but 
there was a look on his face that could only mean 
one thing. He was in a desperate mood. Worse 
than he had ever been and as usual, he was planning 
some way to take out his revenge on her. 

She stood frozen to the spot, not knowing what 
to do. She had never seen him like this and she 
guessed that her time had come. She was not very 
far wrong. 

He made a lunge for her and grabbing her by the 
hair, swung her around until she grew sick with 
pain. Just before she fainted away, she could see 
the point of a revolver leveled at her but he evidently 
thought better of what he was going to do. He 
probably felt it would be best not to waste a bullet 
on her. He went out and closed the door and she 
lost all consciousness. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Little Alma was having the time of her life 
scrambling over trunks and packing her own little 
suitcase over and over again, for the trip upon 
which she and her father were about to start. 

Dr. Cleverton could not help laughing at her. He 
had ordered their baggage down early for he had 
felt that she would enjoy playing around and pre- 
tending to pack — she was such a little busybody. 
He liked nothing better during the long afternoons 
when it was too cold to go out than to see her pull 
the books out of the bookcase and try in vain to 
put them back again, while he would glance at her 
now and then from where he sat reading. His little 
girl could do nothing wrong. 

At night they slept in each others arms and she 
ate most of her meals sitting on his knee. Clerks 
in the toy-shops on Fifth Avenue welcomed him as 
a long lost friend. He gave orders to the house- 
keeper that she was not to keep anyone employed 
who did not love children and he himself watched 
the nurse when she would give the little girl her 
bath for fear she might be exposed to the cold. He 
was not a religious man but he had even started to 
take the child to church, much to the surprise of the 
minister who had known him since his boyhood, 
he was a model father. 

He did not care for his former friends and tried 
129 


130 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


to avoid them as much as possible, but there were a 
few from whom he could not escape no matter how 
hard he would try and one of these was Mrs. Darius 
Wicks. 

Mrs. Wicks, who had thought herself overcome 
with grief by Mr. Cleverton's death, was now pat- 
ting herself on the back for here was a chance to 
get a man worth lots of money and much better in 
every respect than her former lover who, she had 
learned in surprise, did not own very much of this 
world’s goods. So she laid out 'her campaign in a 
thorough and competent manner and Dr. Cleverton, 
with only the subordinate perception of the male 
sex, was no hand to compete with her. 

Mrs. Wicks started out by teaching Alma to be- 
come very fond of her. There was no one who could 
play house like her “Aunty Wicks” thought the lit- 
tle girl, who knew her by this name. Mrs. Wicks 
would return day after day with some new way in 
her head to entertain the child. There was nothing 
she would not do. She played Punch and Judy un- 
til she was so hoarse she could not speak. She 
dressed up in funny costumes and on Halloween 
planned quite a party for the little girl, which 
though little Alma did not understand at all, im- 
pressed the Doctor very much. Dr. Cleverton liked 
Mrs. Wicks and would have been thankful to any- 
one for kindness shown to his child, but when he 
began to realize her intentions, he was very much 
provoked and everything she did from that time on 
looked ridiculous in his eyes. 

Still, even then he could not help but be grateful 
to her for her goodness to his child and it was be- 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


131 


cause of this, he did not repulse her attentions as he 
would have done otherwise. 

When he told her of his plan to go West, he could 
see the shade of disappoinment which passed over 
her face and now he knew for certain that the 
quicker he could get away, the better. He only 
wished that he could tell her how his heart was 
bleeding with anguish and despair. If she could 
have seen his naked soul for one instant, how sur- 
prised she would have been. 

He had planned a beautiful trip. He intended 
buying a new automobile as soon as they would ar- 
rive in California and then expected to tour from 
place to place. He was going to take little Alma’s 
nurse and his chauffeur along. 

One night as he sat reading, he glanced again and 
again at the bed where the little girl lay sleeping 
and he found that he could not keep his mind on 
his book. There was no noise except her gentle 
breathing and the quietness of the place seemed to 
ring in his ears. There was only one light burning 
in the room and that one was directly over the chair 
in which he sat. 

“Well,” he thought to himself, “I might as well 
crawl into bed. I can’t sleep anyhow but it will do 
me good to rest.” 

He had visions in his mind of how he would toss 
to and fro as he always did, snatching a little fitful 
sleep which was generally so filled with nightmares 
that he preferred to keep awake if he could. 

It was raining outside — a cold drizzly November 
rain and a fog had risen from the damp ground 
which made the lights of the automobiles passing 


132 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


by look like the great shining monsters coming out of 
the darkness. 

The Doctor stood at the window looking out a few 
minutes before undressing. He felt a pity in his 
heart for those persons so unfortunate as to have no 
home where they might go this night. He wished 
that he could do something to help some poor souls 
who were without money or food. 

He glanced at the bed as he thought about the 
many little children just the age and size of his own 
little girl, perhaps, who were hungry to-night. 
Thank fortune, his little one was well and strong. 

His head was aching. He put his hand up to his 
forehead. He must take better care of himself after 
this for if anything should happen to him, his child 
would be an orphan. 

Just then a clock somewhere struck ten. Ten 
long mournful strokes as they sounded through the 
damp air. 

He was startled to see the figure of a man through 
the dimness of the fog, standing at his front door 
just below him. He did not hear the bell ring so 
he pulled the curtains together and turning off the 
light, waited to see what the stranger would do. He 
was surprised to see the figure beneath him, turn 
from the door and start down the walk. This man, 
thought Dr. Cleverton, must have imagined that 
everyone had gone to bed, so he quickly raised the 
window and called. 

“Hi, there!” 

The retreating figure turned around with a start 
and then came cautiously back. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


133 


When the man finally came beneath the window. 
Dr. Cleverton called. 

‘‘What do you want here at this hour of the 
night?” 

“Who are you?” replied the man. 

“Pm Dr. Cleverton. What do you want?” said 
the voice above. 

“Pve been taken very sick,” the man answered 
this time. “I thought maybe you would give me 
something so I could get home.” 

“I’m not practicing any more,” replied Dr. Clev- 
erton. “I’m sorry my poor man. I don’t like to 
turn anybody away. Maybe if I come down and 
speak to you a few moments, I could do something 
to help you.” 

The man below nodded his head in acquiescence 
and the Doctor closed the window. He did not like 
to bring a stranger into his house at this hour, but 
he had too much humanity about him to refuse help 
to a sick person if he could alleviate their suffering 
in any way. 

He called the nurse who was sitting reading in her 
room and bade her stay with the baby. Then he 
roused the butler who had fallen asleep over his 
pipe in the kitchen and ordered him to come along 
to the front door for his intuition told him that 
something unusual was about to happen. 

He hesitated before he opened the door. He 
hardly knew whether the man would still be there or 
not but as the door opened, the stranger who had 
been waiting, almost fell in and Dr. Cleverton saw 
before him one of the roughest characters he had 
ever laid eyes upon in his life. The man was wring- 


134 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


ing wet for one thing and it was plain to be seen 
that he had not been shaven for many a day. 

The Doctor ushered him into the library at the 
left and helped him off with his coat, underneath 
which he had nothing but a sweater and a pair of 
trousers. 

Dr. Cleverton rang for the butler and ordered him 
to bring the man something to drink for he could 
tell at a glance that the creature before him was 
not intoxicated. He looked more as if he were over- 
come by exhaustion and lack of food. 

He drained the glass of Port wine which was 
brought to him and swallowed a few crackers. Then 
he looked up at the Doctor and waited for him to 
speak. 

“What is the matter with you, my poor man?’' 
asked Dr. Cleverton, sympathetically. “Tell me and 
I will do all that I can to help you.” 

“I’m not sick,” muttered the ruffian beneath his 
breath. I’ve come to tell you something if you 
make it worth my while.” 

The Doctor started. He backed up to where he 
could easily reach the bell. 

“What have you to tell me?” he questioned in a 
trembling voice. 

“Well maybe if it interests you,” said the man in 
a sneering tone, “I might tell you who I am.” 

“I don’t know whether it would interest me or 
not,” replied the Doctor cautiously, not knowing 
what this ruffian might do next. 

“I think it would,” declared the man insolently, 
“for I am your brother-in-law.” 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


135 


Dr. Cleverton sank weakly into a chair. He felt 
his strength ebbing away. 

“My God !” he exclaimed finally. “I never knew 
she had a brother. Speak man, speak !” 

“I ain’t telling nothing,” threatened the imperti- 
nent figure in front of him, “without cash. Money 
can buy lots sometime.” 

“What is your price ?” whispered the Doctor 
faintly. “Make it what you will but don’t kill me 
with suspense.” 

“My price is five thousand for the first part of my 
story,” the ruffian answered bending forward with 
a hungry look in his eyes. 

Dr. Cleverton arose and going over to where the 
man sat, said in as calm a tone as he could, “The 
money is yours. What have you to tell me?” 

“I know where your wife is,” replied the man with 
a laugh. “It’ll cost you a damn sight more now you 
know she’s alive and well, to find her whereabouts/’ 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


When Missy opened her eyes once more, she 
looked about her in surprise for she could see that 
she was not in her own home. She lay quietly for 
two or three minutes trying to figure out where 
she was and then she heard a little voice in the next 
room and knew that she must be at Mrs. Tanney^s. 

Her first thoughts upon waking was a feeling of 
certainty that she had died and that she was in the 
Hereafter. She was not glad when she could see 
that she was still on this sad old earth instead of 
being born into a new life. She had hoped that all 
her troubles were over ; and now, she would have it 
all to go through again. 

Mrs. Tanney heard her stirring and came tiptoe- 
ing into the room. 

“How did I come here?’^ asked Missy feebly. 

“Don’t talk little girl,” said Mrs. Tanney gently. 
“You’re going to stay here now, for good.” 

“No, no!” exclaimed Missy, starting up with a 
stifled cry. “No, no! I’ll have to go back, dear 
darling Mrs. Tanney. I would love to stay for I 
love you more than anyone I’ve met for years, but I 
can’t do as I wish.” 

“Yes, I think you’ll stay now,” persisted Mrs. 
Tanney, “but I want to ask you a question, dear, 
you’re so devoted to your husband. Do you love 
him very much?” 


136 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


137 


Missy sank back on the pillow and her lips trem- 
bled. She struggled to answer Mrs. Tanney but no 
words would come. 

“Don’t ask me,” she finally moaned. 

“Well, if he should have gone away,” reiterated 
Mrs. Tanney. 

“Then I would have to follow him,” groaned the 
poor woman on the bed. “I have no friends but you 
and no money but what he gives me.” 

“But supposing,” went on the older woman, “that 
he’d gone some place where you couldn’t follow 
him.” 

“I don’t know,” sobbed Missy. “Please don’t ask 
me, I’ve never thought of that.” 

“It would not make you sorry,” vouchsafed Mrs. 
Tanney watching the wan little woman closely. But 
as she did not quiver nor show signs of emotion, she 
continued, “Listen, Missy,” Mrs. Tanney whispered 
in a low voice, “Carlo is dead.” 

There was a sharp cry and Missy jumped from 
the bed, her eyes almost starting from her head and 
her hands clenching the bedclothes with a fearful 

grip- 

“He’s dead, you say? Then I am free,” she almost 
shrieked. 

“Yes, but lie down quietly now and let me tell 
you about it. It’s rest you need,” the elderly wo- 
man declared calmly. “We’ve plenty of time to de- 
cide what you are going to do in the future. You’re 
a good girl and I’m going to see you through this 
thing.” 

When Mrs. Tanney left the room her eyes were 
filled with tears. She had not slept for two nights 


138 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


and she was dog tired but she had lived for other 
people all her life and she never stopped a moment 
to realize that her own poor body needed a little 
care. 

She looked out of the window. It was a beautiful 
night. Pretty soon the morning light would be ap- 
pearing across the horizon. She gazed across at the 
small cabin where the body of Carlo lay, as yet hardly 
cold. But when she thought of his death, there was no 
feeling of sympathy in her breast and she only thanked 
God that he had not killed the woman in the next 
room, before his fate had overtaken him. 

She sat down before the fire — soon her head was 
bobbing and she was sound asleep. When she 
looked up again with a start. Missy was standing 
before her. 

“How was he killed ?” moaned Missy, putting her 
arms around the dear motherly woman. 

“It was this way,” said Mrs. Tanney. “He left 
your house and went down to the drugstore to get 
some morphine. You know he always had it sent 
regularly to him there, but yesterday the druggist 
informed him that nothing had come through the 
mail for him. Your husband seemed to be in a nasty 
humor. I heard he lost heavy at cards. He asked 
Mr. Smith, the druggist, to give him something 
else then as he was in great pain. Mr. Smith didn't 
know what to do. Then your husband swung a re- 
volver on him, but Mr. Smith was too cute for him. 
He pretented to go back to the store for something. 
Through a mirror he could see that your husband 
had lowered the arm which held the gun and stood 
waiting for him to come back, so Mr. Smith pulled 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


139 


out one of his own and turned it on your man. 
There was a number of shots and when a crowd 
gathered they found your husband stone dead. 
When I heard of it I hurried over to see you and 
found you lying on the floor in awful shape.” 

Missy shuddered. Something was gripping her 
about the heart. She knew that the relief which 
had come to her at the news of his death, was akin 
to great joy but at the same time she had a terrible 
feeling of helplessness. 

“Well,” went on Mrs. Tanney, “I hate to talk 
about them thaPs dead and gone, but your husband 
was a very bad man. I don^t suppose you knew he 
was running with another woman.” 

“No,” answered Missy in a trembling uncertain 
voice. “I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I only 
want to know what I’m going to do now. I am 
worse ofif than ever.” 

“Your husband lies over there,” remarked Mrs. 
Tanney, pointing her finger in the direction of Mis- 
sy’s house. “Perhaps you had better stay away. 
You’re not too strong in your mind anyhow and 
they’re going to bury him at sunrise.” 

“No,” said Missy sadly, “I don’t want to see him 
any more for I feel that the spell which has bound 
me for so long is slipping away, so I don’t want to 
look upon his dead face.” 

Mrs. Tanney got up and hustled around trying to 
get a little breakfast. The invalids might be awake 
now at any time. 

Missy did all that she could to help her and when 
the tiny infant started to cry in the next room, she 
went to it and rocked the little thing until he fell into 


140 THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 

a sound sleep again. Then she hurried out into the 
kitchen and was surprised to find that Mrs. Tanney 
was not there. 

Suddenly she heard the sound of men's voices. 
Something seemed to draw her to the window and 
as she lifted the sash, she could see that the sun was 
just rising. She was stricken with horror at the 
sight before her eyes and it haunted her for long af- 
terwards. There, passing the window were the pall- 
bearers with their dreadful burden bearing it away 
as quickly as they could. She longed to rush out 
and ask for a last look at the motionless figure which 
lay in a rough box, for when we fear anything a 
great deal, we are generally fascinated by it. But as 
soon as they disappeared around a row’ of houses, 
she thought no more about him. Indeed, he died as 
he had lived. » There would be no words from the 
Bible read over him, she knew, for that would be 
mockery. The man who had not feared God while 
he was alive would now have a chance to meet him 
in the next world. 

The days passed. Missy stayed with Mrs. Tan- 
ney helping her to take care of the little children 
and doing a great portion of the housework to earn 
her living. The little girl clung to her skirts all 
day long and never wanted Missy to leave her. 
Missy felt herself growing stronger and stronger 
mentally, but she thought in her heart that her 
physical condition would never be improved and 
she felt that her days on this earth were numbered. 

Mrs. Tanney urged Missy to tell her something 
of her past life but could not force a word from the 
girl's lips. She urged Missy to try and earn enough 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


141 


money to go home again to the East, but Missy 
would just shake her head. 

can’t go,” she would say. *T will wait until 
I’m nearly dead and then I will go back to die, if I 
can raise enough money to take the trip.” 

“I will try to help you all I can,” assured Mrs. Tan- 
ney. “I’m not rich but I’d rather give you my sav- 
ings than any one I ever knew.” 

Missy smiled sadly. “I would never allow you to 
do that,” she murmured gently but firmly. “I will 
find some other means of paying my way if I decide 
to go.” 

Two weeks had now passed since Carlo’s death. 
During this time Missy had been able to conquer her 
desire for morphine but she knew that some day she 
would have to go back to it again, and the day came 
only too soon. 

A new family were about to move into her old 
cabin and they asked her to come over and remove 
whatever of her belongings she had left there. When 
she was rummaging around, she had come across 
some of the drug. She had tried to put it from her 
but the struggle had been too much for her. She 
was going to die anyway, she figured to herself. 
Why not make her last days as happy as possible. 
She might as well use up what there was left, any- 
how. 

When she arrived back at Mrs. Tanney’s, the 
older woman noticed something unusual about her 
and it did not take her long to realize that this girl 
was back on the dope again. 

Two evenings later Missy came into the kitchen 
where Mrs. Tanney sat before the fire evidently in 


142 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


deep thought. She was worrying about the girl for 
she did not know what she ought to do with her. 
If she could only find out something about her past, 
she would notify her friends and give her over into 
their hands. 

“You said you would help me to get home,” ex- 
claimed Missy. “You promised to lend me some 
money. Could you let me have it now?” 

“What do you want it for now?” questioned Mrs. 
Tanney much surprised. 

“Pm going back,” replied Missy impatiently. I 

“I will see that you get there all right,” Mrs. Tan- 
ney answered, looking her straight in the face and 
speaking in a firm tone, “but I will be the one to 
buy your railroad ticket.” 

Missy was desperate, and Mrs. Tanney knew from 
the expression in the girl’s eyes why she wanted 
the money but she had never seen Missy act this 
way before. 

“No, I’m sorry dear,” continued Mrs. Tanney. “I 
can’t let you have the money to-night. I have very 
little saved and if it was to go foolishly, I could not 
give you enough to get you home. My husband’s 
life insurance was not much and the income from it 
is all I have to live on.” 

Missy bit her lip until she almost brought the 
blood. She was crazed with a desire for dope and 
her small supply had given out. She had remem- 
bered the package that Carlo had gone to the drug 
store to ask for the night he was shot. She would . 
get that package to-night if it were there, cost what 
it might. 

“Would you mind if I go out for a walk, Mrs. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


143 


Tanney,” Missy asked eagerly. ‘T would only be 
gone a short time. I’m stifling and I think the air 
would make me feel better.” 

Mrs. Tanney handed her a large woolen shawl 
which was lying on the back of a chair and said 
warningly. “Keep this about you good and don’t 
be gone long. It’s pretty cold out and you’ve got to 
take care of yourself.” 

Missy took the shawl and gave Mrs. Tanney a kiss 
on the cheek. She felt a great remorse at deceiving 
this kind old soul but she thought she would die if 
she did not get something to stimulate her tired 
body. 

When she stepped out into the open air, she real- 
ized that it was indeed very cold, but she started to 
run, hugging the shawl close to her. When she 
reached the drugstore, she hesitated before going 
in. It would take a lot of nerve, but she was crazed 
with desire, so finally, she pushed the door open and 
slipped in trying to put on as brave a front as she 
possibly could. 

Mr. Smith, the proprietor, a large man who had 
the name of being very loud and coarse, stared at 
her with much surprise as he stood with his arm in 
a sling behind the counter. 

“There was a package,” inquired Missy falteringly, 
“came here for my husband after his death ?” 

“Yes, there was,” answered the man sullenly. 

“Could I have it now?” Missy asked eagerly. 

“You can if you pay what’s due on it,” declared 
the man gruffly. 

“But I haven’t any money,” pleaded Missy, her 
eyes filling with tears. 


144 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


“So that’s it, eh? You come to my store and want 
me to give you stuff free. There’s only one way you 
can get it without paying.” He leaned over the 
counter and chucked her under the chin. “You’re 
a mighty good looking gal and I reckon you know 
it. You could get pretty nearly anything you want 
from me. Come now, will it be a go ?” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


The train for the East was supposed to reach the 

little town of X every night at eleven o’clock 

but it did not stop to take on passengers unless the 
station master telegraphed on ahead for it to do so. 

At about three o’clock the next afternoon, the fig- 
ure of a woman came into the small station and 
asked for a moment’s conversation in regard to 
trains. When she found at what hour the express 
for Chicago would arrive there, she asked the station 
master to have it stopped for her and then the wo- 
man left hurriedly and he did not see her any more 
until that night. 

When the big engine came puffing in, she came 
onto the platform trudging a heavy suitcase. She 
had on a large coat and a small black hat and she 
seemed very eager to be started, but she was so 
weak that the station master had to almost carry 
her onto the train. 

He had only been on this job for a short time and 
had never seen this woman before but he thought 
it was odd that she was starting off all alone. Life 
here was such a bore that he was beginning to weave 
mysteries about every person he would see. 

When Missy realized that the train had started 
and she was indeed on her way, she dropped into 
her berth with a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. 

145 


146 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


She did not trouble to undress. The clean sheets 
felt so good to her and she only hoped and prayed 
that she would live a few days longer. She now 
had only one desire left and that was to get back to 
her old home and die. 

During the previous months she had never allowed 
herself to think of her husband and child for the 
fear of what Carlo might do to her if she became de- 
pressed had kept her busy trying to invent means of 
satisfying his wicked nature and bad temper. Along 
with this, she had actually been a sick, mentally de- 
ficient woman, for to alleviate her physical suffer- 
ing she had been drugged from one day to the next. 
So for a time, she had even forgotten from what part 
of the world she had come. While she stayed at 
Mrs. Tanney’s and lived in a good and healthy way, 
she had begun to get back her senses, but when 
she had sold herself to the dirty coarse man the night 
before, for the drug which had grown to be a nec- 
essity to her, she felt she had made herself unfit to 
associate with Mrs. Tanney and her grandchildren 
and she had grasped all the money she could get 
hold of and had succeeded in escaping. Now, she 
longed to return home to spend her last hours. 

When she had lived with Carlo she had never felt 
the sense of guilt that swept over her now. She 
knew that she could not get away from him and 
that the life she was living was no fault of hers, so 
she could only feel a sense of sorrow at her mis- 
fortune. But now, she had fallen as low as any wo- 
man could. She had given herself for money to sat- 
isfy her love of dope. She cared no longer to live 
even if she could do so and held herself in scornful 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


147 


contempt. All that she now wished for in this 
world was to be able to survive the trip home. 

She had had great difficulty in sneaking away 
from the dreadful man she had just left and she pic- 
tured how angry he would be when he would find 
her gone. 

The porter on the train next morning gazed at her 
suspiciously. The looks of her clothes made him 
feel that it would not be very profitable for him to 
show her much attention. 

The other passengers also watched her strangely 
as she sat so quietly by herself, neither reading nor 
trying to make any acquaintances but simply gazing 
ahead of her in a blank sort of way. 

Missy sat very still. She neither saw anyone nor 
heard anything. She ate as little as she possibly 
could, hoping in this way to save money. It seemed 
as though she would never arrive in Chicago, but 
when she reached there, she felt very lonesome in 
the big city by herself and she found it very diffi- 
cult to get around with little money. 

After she bought her ticket to New York, she had 
only a couple of dollars left. She would have to eat 
very little but it was nothing new to her to be 
hungry. 

Two days later she landed in New York. No- 
body would have recognized in her the woman who 
had passed through this station so often surrounded 
by luxury. She was in an almost desolate condition. 
She bought a cup of coffee in the lunchroom for she 
was fainting from lack of food and squandered a few 
more cents on some oranges. This would proba- 
bly be the last food she would eat on this earth. 


148 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


She only needed what money she had left to pay 
for her fare on the suburban train which would take 
her out to the nearest station to her destination. 

She had spent fifty cents of her money on the train. 
Now she started off with her suitcase under her 
arm and the bag of oranges in her other hand. She 
hardly knew which way to go for although old rec- 
ollections were coming back again, she felt like a 
stranger. She was terribly afraid that somebody 
might recognize her, but if she could have seen how 
different she looked, she would have had no fear on 
this score. 

She felt very tired and the suitcase seemed to 
grow heavier and heavier every step that she took. 
It was almost across the city from the station she 
had just left to the one she was trying to find now. 
She did not know what street car to take and she 
gazed eagerly at everyone that passed her, intend- 
ing to stop the first one who would look at all sym- 
pathetic. 

How wonderful her home city looked to her. The 
very stones on the street seemed good enough to eat 
and as she looked at the faces of the people hurrying 
by, she felt that they all must be kind and good. 

The thought of her husband nearly drove her mad 
and she wondered with a terrible aching in her heart 
what he was doing this day and whether he was in 
this same place with her. Still if he had turned the 
corner and come face to face with her, she would 
rather have died than be recognized. She dared not 
think of her little girl for she knew that if she did, 
her footsteps would falter and she would be able to 
go no further. She preferred the pains of death and 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 149 

even perhaps Hell, to those that came surging up 
over her when she thought vaguely of her little 
namesake. No ! no ! She would not contaminate her 
little girl. It was all right for her to go home for 
she would be dead a long time before they would 
ever find her. She was very wicked and bad, “but,” 
she argued with herself, “it won’t hurt them if I go 
out there to die.” 

She could take an accommodation train, but the 
nearest station to Cleverhill was about five miles 
distance from it. The rest of the way she supposed 
she would have to walk, but she would still have a 
dollar left and for a little money somebody might give 
her a lift. 

Her country home would be all closed up now 
but she could find some way of entering and then 
she could breathe her last in the dear familiar sur- 
roundings. The thoughts of seeing her lovely home 
again, brought a smile to her wasted face. Yes, 
that would be an ideal way to pass from this life to 
the next. She would take care that nobody would 
catch her. She only hoped that she would not con- 
taminate everything in the house which she would 
touch. 

She had brought misfortune to everyone. Still 
she had once been a good mother and a good wife 
and was she wrong in wanting to spend her last mo- 
ments far from the sordid surroundings that she had 
just come from? 

It seemed hours later when she entered the depot 
and bought a ticket on the first out-going train. She 
was very much disappointed when she found that i 
she would have quite a long wait, for the trains 


150 


JHE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


were not running very often in that direction during 
the winter months. 

She sat down on one of the hard benches and put 
her suitcase in front of her. Before she knew it, her 
head was nodding and she was sound asleep. She 
dreamed that she was being arrested and when she 
begged the officers to find out what she had done, 
they would simply turn and point to a man who 
walked so closely in back of her that she could not 
see his face. When she did get a look at him, she 
was horror-stircken. It was the face of her brother. 
He followed her to jail and when they locked her 
into a little cell, he peered at her between the bars. 
It seemed as though he would never go away. 
When she asked him why he was there, he just 
laughed and muttered one word, “Murderess,” and 
she could see the jury on the benches pointing at 
her and discussing her case beneath their breath. 
iThe whole story was plain to her — Pierre had ac- 
cused her of murdering her husband’s cousin. 

She wakened with a start. Tears were rolling 
down her cheeks and she was glad to find herself 
sitting in the big station with no person paying any 
attention to her, but as she looked up she became 
palsied with fear. There indeed was her brother in 
the flesh standing near to her. He looked her way 
and she was sure he recognized her but she low- 
ered her head and prayed very hard that she might 
, be spared this last torture. 

Her train was called and she arose and hurried the 
other way. When she came to the gate, she looked 
back in trembling and fear to see if he was following 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


151 


her but she was much relieved when she did not see 
him. 

She would liked to have fallen down on the station 
floor and taken a rest but she lifted her suitcase again 
and summoning all the strength she had left, she 
hurried on, fearful lest the man with a scythe in his 
hand would reach her too soon. 


CHAPTER XX. 


Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Hubbs, enjoying the pleas- 
ant warmth of their cozy little kitchen, felt thankful 
that they were not abroad this bitter night. Heze- 
kiah stretched himself in his armchair and sighed 
luxuriously. 

His wife looked up from her knitting and said, 
‘‘Hezekiah Hubbs, how do you suppose the water 
pipes are feeling this evening up at the big house?’’ 

Poor Hezekiah, groaning inwardly, replied, “Oh, 
it’s not so cold. I guess everything is all right up 
there,” and reached for his pipe. 

His wife gazed at him calmly over her spectacles 
and said, “Well, since it’s not so cold, I don’t sup- 
pose you’d mind taking a little stroll up there just 
to make sure of things.” 

Poor Hezekiah groaned and peered out of the win- 
dow into the blackness of the night. Hezekiah well 
understood that tone of voice — he had heard it be- 
fore on many occasions. 

Mrs. Hubbs placidly rocked to and fro and re- 
marked in a casual way, “If a body’s goin’ to believe 
in the ghost stories they hear from these silly bod- 
ies, they might be afeard to go roamin’ around in 
empty houses.” 

Hezekiah shivered at his wife’s words with an aw- 
152 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


153 


ful feeling of guilt but making a great show of brav- 
ery, replied, “Tut, woman, there's nay ghosts.” 

His wife gave him a quick glance and continued 
to rock to and fro in placid enjoyment, while her un- 
fortunate spouse glanced furtively towards the win- 
dow as a particular heavy gust of wind came shriek- 
ing around the house. 

He dropped his head on his chest in an attitude 
of great weariness and closed his eyes, hoping his 
wife would notice how worn out he was. He would 
even have hazarded a gentle snore but for the in- 
terference of a large wad of tobacco he had stowed 
away in one corner of his cheek. 

For a few minutes neither spoke. The clock ticked 
on and the pussy purred contentedly in the warmth 
of the fire. Presently Mrs. Hubbs heaved a deep, 
prolonged sigh which seemed to start from the soles 
of her feet and reverberate through her whole pon- 
derous form. 

“Hezekiah Hubbs 1” 

He gave a start. 

“Pm going to get your boots.” She strode heavily 
to the little cupboard in the hall and returned bear- 
ing the aforesaid heavy boots with red tops and 
brass toes, a long red and gray knit comforter, fur 
cap and heavy greatcoat, all of which she deposited 
on the settee with what appeared to her hapless hus- 
band to be a sort of inward triumph. 

“Well, well,” said he, “what now? Are you so 
bent on getting me out in the storm.” 

“Oh, well, duty is duty and we owe it to the poor 
Doctor to be powerful particular about his house 
since our young missus disappeared so strange like.” 


154 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


Hezekiah hoping to gain time by allowing his 
wife^s garrulous tongue to run along, readily as- 
sented. “Aye, aye, that was a very strange thing,’' 
and leaned back into his chair again. 

His wife glanced at her lesser one-third and said, 
“Well, man, why don’t you pull them on?” 

Hezekiah slowly pulled the boots on and groaned 
loudly. His wife ignored it and continued to rock. 

“Rheumatics, again, I suppose.” 

“Aye, it’s pretty bad to-night,” wondering if he 
dared mix himself a toddy before going out into the 
storm. 

She knew what he was thinking about and re- 
lented sufficiently to say, “Maybe a drop of the crea- 
ture would do no harm to fortify yourself against the 
cold and to keep the spirits away.” 

She fetched the bottle from the cupboard — mixed 
him a steaming drink and handed it to him. 

Hezekiah was touched by her kindness and taking 
advantage of her softened mood, ventured to pour a 
little more in from the bottle and drank it with much 
inward enjoyment; then seeing it was useless to re- 
sist his strong-minded helpmate further, he slowly 
pulled on the boots and by degrees assumed the rest 
of his garments. 

His wife seized the lamp and lighted him to the 
door. 

“I’ll be back in an hour, so keep the fire up and 
you had better have the kettle boiling for me.” He 
opened the door and with a roar, the wind rushed in 
and extinguished the lamp, leaving Mrs. Hubbs in 
darkness. 

Mrs. Hubbs’s solid mountain of flesh seemed to 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


155 , 


shiver with the cold, but did she not tremble a little 
also and did she not feel a slight stab of conscience 
for sending her poor man out into the merciless 
night. 

"‘Well, duty is duty,” she told herself, and groped 
her way back to the fire-lighted kitchen where she 
made her way to the window and peered out to see 
poor Hezekiah struggling and climbing painfully up 
the hill buffeted by the angry blasts. She sighed 
again with a feeling of sudden loneliness as she re- 
called some of the stories she had heard of the house 
on the hill and recollecting Hezekiah’s parting in- 
junction, she relighted the lamp and built up the fire. 

Seating herself before the fire, she opened her Bi- 
ble and tried to read but somehow could not keep 
her mind on it. Everything seemed still as there 
was a lull in the storm outside and she began to hum 
softly to herself, the air of one of her favorite hymns. 
The sound of her own voice seemed to relieve her 
and gaining confidence, she sang louder and louder. 
Verse after verse rang out of ‘‘pull for the shore, 
sailor,” and each time the sailor pulled for the shore, 
down came her massive foot in close proximity to 
pussy’s tail. ‘‘Maltese Moses” objected not only to 
her music but did not care to have her beat time so 
near his tail and after looking around once or twice 
reproachfully at her, finally arose with dignity and 
stalked majestically out of the room. 

In the meantime, Hezekiah was toiling painfully 
up the hill as fast as his poor rheumatic joints would 
allow him and presently came to the turn in the 
road ; there before him loomed the great house. A 
huge dark pile which seemed to frown down upon 


156 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


him from the height. He made his way to the rear 
of the house and felt in his pocket for the key, shud- 
dering and quaking within himself. He cast a fur- 
tive glance up at the dark'^dismal mansion and 
thought how much like closed eyes those boarded 
up windows appeared to him and wondered what 
they might hide behind them. He hesitated a mo- 
ment trembling in every limb ; it seemed as if every 
good wife's tales of ghost and spirits he had ever 
heard in his life rushed into his mind. Nearly par- 
alyzed with fright, he muttered, “No, no, there 
might be spirits behind those doors," and with a 
quaking heart he turned his back when a vision of 
his wife’s taunting face arose before his mind and 
he muttered, “Well, a man can die but once, anyway 
and what is bound to be is bound to be and we can’t 
help what comes if we are doing our duty. A man 
can stand a better chance in the next world if he 
does his duty here.’’ Hezekiah was a good church 
man with all his superstition. 

He resolutely put the key in the lock, pushed open 
the door and entered. All seemed quiet and very 
peaceful ; so Hezekiah groped his way to where the 
lantern hung and after much cursing and many 
matches were used, he finally had the satisfaction of 
making the lantern burn. 

In the meanwhile, his courage had returned. He 
entered the furnace cellar and turned on a small fire 
in the furnace and proceeded to inspect the water 
pipes in a leisurely manner. In fact, he was pretty 
well satisfied with himself and as he turned to leave, 
was thinking of how he would be able to goad his 
old woman should she ever again attempt to cast 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


157 


slurs on his bravery — when suddenly did he only 
imagine it or could it be possible, that somebody was 
walking overhead. The cellar door flew shut with a 
bang and extinguished his lantern. Hezekiah crept 
more dead than alive to the door leading upstairs. 
Frightened and shivering though he was, he had 
strength enough and curiosity enough to try to find 
out if someone were really walking about the place. 

He opened the door cautiously and peered up 
through the inky blackness. He did not hear any 
more footsteps and had just determined to close the 
door and leave the specter to itself, when HOR- 
RORS ! the most terrible ghastly shriek rent the 
air. It seemed to be a woman laughing ; but such a 
laugh All the demons in hell could not have pierced 
the silence with a more horrible sound. 

Hezekiah never knew how he got out of the house 
but if his rheumatic old legs had changed into 
wings, it would give an idea of the speed with which 
he reached the cottage door. 

He burst in with such ferocity that poor Mrs. 
Hubbs startled from her devotions, jumped up and 
grabbed the broom to defend herself, thinking that 
someone had broken into the, house. When she saw 
it was only her ‘‘poor Heze” she hardly knew 
whether to be pleased or angry. She opened her 
mouth to scold, then seeing the trembling, 
speechless form before her, she changed her mind 
and said, “My God, man, what's got you? Can’t 
you speak?” 

But evidently Hezekiah Hubbs could not speak. 
He could only tremble and stare at her with such 
stricken eyes that she began to fear for his reason. 


158 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


She called his name repeatedly, ‘‘Heze, Heze, Heze,*' 
looking into his face for some answering glace of in- 
telligence, but he could only shudder and moan. She 
supported him in her arms and half carried, half 
dragged him over to the sofa where she laid him 
down and then hastily got the whiskey bottle which 
was still on the table and poured him out a stiff 
drink. After a little trouble she succeeded in mak- 
ing him swallow some and presently his eyes lost 
their wild look of terror and his lips moved enough 
to say, ‘‘The banshee !” 

“The banshee, man ! What are you talking 
about ?” 

“The banshee at the big house — the poor missus. 
She will be dead the night.” 

“Nonsense, man, what are you talking about? 
Poor young missus indeed and all the talk about the 
banshee. I’ll lay me your banshee is in the whiskey 
bottle.” 

Nevertheless, she heaved a huge sigh of relief that 
she had her man home again. 

“Silence woman. Cease your chatter of things 
you know nothing of.” 

Really,. Hezekiah, safe once more in his own home 
and the hero of a terrible adventure, felt himself 
quite a brave man and master of his household for 
once. 

His wife rendered speechless for the first time 
during their married life, by his new tone of au- 
thority, sat down and prepared to listen for further 
developments. 

Encouraged by her apparent submission, he said, 
“I seen Hell let loose. First I heard ’em walk over- 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


159 


head. I rushed upstairs but they came down on me 
all white and bloody and pretty nearly overpowered 
me. 

His wife said nothing but gave him a quick mean- 
ing glance. 

“Pm goin' to send for the master in the mornin'. 
The master ought to know of these strange doings.’’ 

“Well, Heze, I’ve always knowed you to be a liar 
and prevaricator, and I warn you, you better not 
have him cornin’ on any wild-goose chase down here 
to listen to your old wife’s tales of ghosts and the 
like. I’m givin’ you warnin’. The master won’t 
stand for any foolish tales of the banshee and white 
ghosts. Why man, the Doctor would laugh you out 
of it in a minute.” 

“Nevertheless woman, I’m goin’ to send for the 
Doctor. This is a man’s business and no kind of 
thing for a woman to be meddlin’ in. You had best 
attend to your knittin’, read your Bible and keep 
your own place.” 

Once more Mrs. Hezekiah Hubbs was rendered 
speechless in the course of the evening. She rose 
and stalked majestically to her room. So thus it is, 
that large bodies are sometimes easily overcome by 
an unexpected show of authority or just a little show 
of bravado. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


When all good folks were sitting enjoying their 
dinner and giving thanks to the Almighty that their 
stomachs were full and their precious bodies com- 
fortably warm, the figure of a frail little woman 
could have been seen trudging along a country road, 
struggling against the onslaught of the wintry blasts. 

Missy had left the train at the little station fully 
two hours before, but she had found it almost im- 
possible to make good time on foot with all the ele- 
ments playing havoc around her. She had to sit 
down to rest many times for her feet were sore and 
her shoes did not fit her. They were much too large 
and coarse for her little feet. Her strength which 
had almost ebbed away would have given out en- 
tirely if she had not gone along carefully. She was 
living on her nerves and once they would give out, 
she would drop by the wayside so she made her way 
slowly. She felt exhausted but oh, so happy. 

It was pitch dark when she finally came to the 
fence which told her that she had reached the boun- 
dary of her husband’s country estate. She dared not 
go in the gateway for fear Mr. and Mrs. Hubbs 
might catch her. How she longed to see that moth- 
erly soul and to be gathered into her arms. She 
160 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


161 


would have given anything to have talked to them 
for five minutes in their humble kitchen. She felt 
the need of human sympathy more now than ever 
before. None of us like to pass into the great be- 
yond without the help of some earthly hand to com- 
fort us in our last minutes. For although we must 
always go on that long journey alone, what can be 
more forlorn than to have no one to whom we can 
breathe a last farewell, even though there is no- 
body in this whole world who really understands us 
but ourselves. 

Missy climbed over the fence scratching herself 
badly on the barbed wire as she did so, but she 
started on a run up the hill. The large trees looked 
like great human forms stretching out their black 
arms to greet her and once or twice she lost con- 
sciousness so much that she felt she was falling into 
a deep chasm while they bent sorrowfully over her 
and tried to help her up again. But finally, after a 
hard struggle, she reached the dearest spot on earth 
to her — her home. 

The tears were rushing down her cheeks and had 
the wind ceased howling for a moment, her sobs 
would have been distinctively audible, for she was 
almost in hysterics and it did her a great deal of 
good to relieve the tension of her feelings for the 
moment. How would she get into the house? 
There it stood all boarded up but she felt sure that 
if she would go around by the side which sloped 
down the hill, she might be able to break one of the 
cellar windows. She would probably be badly cut 
in doing so, but it did not matter; she was ragged 
and bleeding already from the fence which she had 


162 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


just crawled over and she was almost insensible to 
the pain. 

She made her way slowly around the house and at 
last found a window which had not been boarded. 
She took a piece of wood lying nearby and broke 
the glass into smithereens ; she crawled through. It 
was very dark in the cellar where she found herself 
but she knew the place so well that she easily made 
her way to the steps leading to the first floor. 

She imagined when she came into the large front 
hall that she could see the forms of all the guests she 
had ever entertained, surrounding her while they 
looked her over critically and laughed and jeered at 
her forlorn condition. She would go to the privacy 
of her own room. 

She made her way upstairs and groping along the 
hall, found herself at last in that sheltered haven 
where she had spent so many delicious hours. Her 
eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and she 
could see everything about her pretty plainly. She 
had brought along her hypodermic and what little 
morphine she had scraped together for she felt it 
would help her towards the end. 

The first thing that she did was to take an injec- 
tion. In a few minutes she felt new strength come 
creeping over her. Here she was in this great house 
all alone. She would pretend for a short time that 
she had never left home. Nobody would hear her. 
At last she could cry as hard as she pleased or laugh 
as loudly as the spirit might move her. She thought 
she would lie down for a few moments for she was 
crazy to throw herself onto her own bed once again. 

She staggered blindly over to the place where it 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


163 


had always stood but fate was not to be kind to her 
for in its place stood the little crib her baby had 
always slept in. It was more than she could bear. 
She threw herself on the floor sobbing wildly and 
tearing her hair out by the handsful. She arose 
again and looked into the little bed to make sure 
that it was empty and when she would find that it 
was, she would go off into another sobbing fit. 

The wind outside kept up a mournful tune. She 
scratched her face with her long fingernails and 
even tore the portieres from the doorway, in her 
passion of grief and when she would stop for a mo- 
ment, the wind would whistle and she would imag- 
ine that it was her little child crying for her. She 
took another dose of morphine hoping that it might 
straighten her up but she could not stand the sight 
of the dear little crib. She would go downstairs and 
greet her guests. 

She looked into the mirror on the dressing-table 
and struck a match lying nearby so as to catch a 
glimpse of her face but what did she see. Her hair 
was hanging in matted, straggling masses while the 
blood was trickling down her cheeks from large 
scratches — but her eyes ! They shown like great fe- 
verish balls of light and her throat looked like a 
great white stem about to break. She thought to 
herself, ‘‘How beautiful I am to-night.” She grabbed 
up a picture of her husband which stood in a silver 
frame and held it to her bosom with such pressure 
that it cut into her flesh. She would take him down- 
stairs with her. 

It seemed to her as if the house were rocking from 
the great blasts of wind which hurled themselves as 


164 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


though in anger, against the unprotected walls and 
shook everything until it sounded like the rattling of 
skeleton’s teeth. She laughed to herself and made 
her way boldly out into the hall and down the front 
steps. Where had her guests gone? They had not 
waited to say farewell to her but over there in the 
corner where there was a streak of light, stood one 
remaining friend who had evidently thought better 
than to take his leave without saying good-bye. 

It was strange though that he was dressed all in 
white and stranger too, that he came slowly for- 
ward without saying a word. She reached out her 
hand and a smile played on her lips, but oh God! 
She could see his face now — all seared and lifeless 
and decayed. It was the face of the man whom she 
and her brother had thrown out the window. 

She let out a terrible shriek of laughter. “So 
you’ve been waiting to get me, cousin dear,” she 
screeched in a hideous voice. “Why, you’re all rot- 
ted. Can’t you stay in your grave where you be- 
long? I’ll come and join you soon.” Again she let 
out a peal of laughter and the dreadful noise she 
made, echoed from one end of the silent house to 
the other. 

The horrible deathlike vision came nearer. A sa- 
tirical smile flitted across the corpse’s face and the 
teeth clapped together with a click. The specter 
threw out its arms and'^tried to gather her in its em- 
brace. With a scream of terror she turned and fled 
up the stairway, the THING after her, always smil- 
ing, always holding out its arms. 

Her cries rang out in sharp peals and every time 
she looked back there it was following her. She 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


165 


dashed into her own room and threw herself over 
the iron rim which ran around her baby’s crib. The 
froth from her mouth dripped onto the bedclothes. 

, It was in this position she wished to be found. She 
kissed the little sheets and kissed them, and kissed 
them frantically and then she knew no more. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


“God!” shrieked Dr. Cleverton, “this cannot be 
true. She is dead and gone long ago.” 

The butler rushed in, fearing that something ter- 
rible had happened. The Doctor stood trembling, 
white and cold as stone. He could not control his 
speech. 

“If you’re lying to me,” he threatened, “I’ll kill 
you.” 

“Well,” said the man calmly. “She’s just as much 
alive as you and me but if you’re goin’ to make a fuss 
like this. I’d better get out before you call the po- 
lice.” 

“No ! no ! sit still. I’ll promise anything — do any- 
thing,” pleaded Dr. Cleverton, “if you will only put 
me out of my suspense.” 

“Well, first,” ordered the man, “you’ve gotta give 
me your solemn oath that you’ll keep quiet. I ain’t 
gona stand a chance of gettin’ the police on my trail 
again for nobody. Money don’t do a guy much good 
when he can’t have no peace in livin’ and is always 
being tracked down.” 

“If this is true,” exclaimed the Doctor, who could 
not even now realize what had happened, “I’ll make 
you comfortable for life.” 

166 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


ler 

*‘Oh, no you don't,” sneered the brute. “We’ll 
have it all in writing or the cash in my hands before 
we go further.” 

“It’s your sister,” replied Dr. Cleverton, clenching 
his fists, “that you’re talking about. You surely 
want to help her.” 

The man shook his head. “Ye can’t get nothing 
from me without cash.” 

“I can’t give you the cash to-night,” moaned Dr. 
Cleverton, “and I can’t wait until morning to hear 
about my darling.” 

“Well,” said the man threateningly, “I don’t know 
whether to trust the likes of you or not, but I give 
you warning if you put the police on my track, they 
can carve me with a butcher’s knife before I give 
them news of where your gal is gone.” The light 
from the lamp in back of him cast a greenish white 
hue upon his face and he looked like a demon more 
than a man. 

“You can trust me,” cried the Doctor huskily, 
clinging to the back of the chair for support. “I 
thought she was dead and the joy of finding her alive 
again is so great that it is almost killing me. Where 
is she, man?” he begged frantically. “Is she near 
here? Can I bring her home to-night?” 

The man looked up and snickered. “No such luck 
as that, young feller,” he croaked. “You’ll be tak- 
ing a long trip before you’ll see her.” 

“Where is she?” repeated the Doctor, losing his 
temper. He walked over and taking the man by 
the shoulders shook him roughly. “Let us gst 
started.” 


168 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


But the man only laughed. “Not until the bank 
opens in the morning,” he growled, “and I’m paid 
for my trouble.” 

< “I said I couldn’t wait until morning,” snorted the 
Doctor. “At least you can give me some news of 
her to-night.” 

“Well, I guess she’s comfortably well off,” an- 
swered the ruffian, “as far as I know. She didn’t 
make much fuss about going.” 

“Where did she go? Why did she leave me?” 
cried the Doctor. “It was cruel of her but I knew 
she must have had a good reason. There’s some 
treachery at the bottom of this. She must have been 
kidnapped.” 

“Don’t you talk like that to me,” screeched the 
man, jumping from his chair and shaking his fist, “or 
I leave this house before you wink your eye. There 
weren’t no treachery. She was willin’ to go, I tell 
you. She couldn’t be off fast enough.” 

“Who did she go with ?” asked Dr. Cleverton with 
bated breath. “She couldn’t have gone away alone 
for to my knowledge she didn’t have any money.” 

“No, she didn’t go alone,” replied the man curtly, 
“but that’s neither here nor there. I promise to take 
you where she is if you don’t get the police on my 
trail. Not that I done anything, dear brother-in- 
law, to fear them, but I allow they might object 
about me demanding pay to tell her whereabouts. 
You know when a fellow’s hard up, he’s got to keep 
body and soul together.” The man stood up. “I’ll 
be goin’ now,” he said. “I’ll come back in the morn- 
ing. You have the money here for me and enough 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


169 


extra for our little trip and I’ll do the thing up right, 
but mum’s the word.” 

“Don’t go,” pleaded Dr. Cleverton in agony for 
fear the man might not come back again. “Stay 
here over night. Please don’t leave.” 

The man, however, was making for the door. 
“Don’t be afraid,” he flung back to the Doctor, “that 
I’ll desert you when I ain’t got the price of a square 
meal to my name.” 

The Doctor felt his legs trembling beneath him. 
The shock of what had happened had left him in a 
trance and he felt powerless to argue further with 
this heartless creature. He stood and watched the 
door close upon the brute as though it were all a 
dream. Then he dropped into a chair where he sat 
thinking for a long time. The minutes and even an 
hour rolled by; perhaps two. Then he felt a great 
joy surging up all over him. Was it possible that 
he would once more hold his darling wife in his 
arms. He began to realize that she was alive and 
suddenly he felt like a big schoolboy just off for a 
vacation. He started to laugh and he ran his hands 
through his hair and laughed more and more. All at 
once he remembered his dear little girl who lay 
sleeping upstairs. 

He was in the hall in an instant and racing up the 
steps, three at a time. He seemed to have wings. 
As he entered his bedroom, he could see that the 
nurse had fallen asleep in a chair and he wondered 
how she could be so heartless on a night so full of 
excitement, until he remembered that she probably 
knew nothing of his great joy. He tapped her on 


170 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


the shoulder and when she opened her startled eyes, 
he told her the news. 

The nurse thought that he had taken a turn for 
the worse and that he had surely gone completely 
out of his head this time, so she hurried from the 
room and going to the third floor, sat down on her 
bed and worried for a couple of hours for fear some- 
thing might happen to little Alma. 

The Doctor looked around the silent room and 
felt that he must have company. There was his 
little girl — her cheek pillowed on her hand sleeping 
sweetly, but he felt no resentment at himself when 
he went over to her and shook her lightly until she 
awakened. 

“What is it, daddy?’* she asked. 

“You’re going to have a mamma again,” he told her 
excitedly. “She is alive and I’m going to bring 
her back to us. Isn’t it wonderful ?” 

“I want mamma to-night,” whimpered the child 
putting her arms around her father’s neck and pull- 
ing him down to her. 

“So do I, sweetheart,” he replied gently, “but we 
ought to be so glad we are going to have her once 
more that we should be patient.” 

“Daddy,” said the little girl, “please come to bed.” 

Dr. Cleverton took off his coat and threw himself 
on the bed beside her. He put his arm around her 
and lay quietly until he could tell by her even 
breathing that she was sound asleep. 

He would never forget that night which he spent 
in pacing the floor or resting upon the bed a little 
while, hoping to glean some comfort from the 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


171 


warmth of the little girFs body, while his brain 
seemed to be on fire. At times he stood at the win- 
dow watching anxiously for a streak of dawn in the 
east and hoping that everyone who passed was his 
surly friend of the night before, coming to take him 
to his wife. 

Long before daylight, the rain had turned to snow 
which fell but lightly. It had grown so ferociously 
cold all of a sudden that the water in the streets had 
frozen and everything was as slippery as glass. It 
promised to be a frightfully cold day. Finally, 
morning did come but he had lived an eternity dur- 
ing those hours of waiting. He felt that he would 
like to fall on his brother-in-law’s neck and knock 
the cowardly bully down. It would have given him 
great pleasure to pound the life out of him. 

But when the clock struck nine, ten and even 
eleven and the man did not turn up. Dr. Cleverton 
felt that if he would only come, he would welcome 
him as a walking saint. He had broken out into a 
cold sweat from the great agony of suspense he had 
been passing through but when the doorbell rang, 
he gained control of himself and went down to meet 
the man who held his fate in his hands with more 
of his usual calmness. 

When he looked at the ruffian he felt that he 
could not believe his sweet beautiful wife was really 
a sister to him. 

Dr. Cleverton had procured quite a little money 
from the bank but he decided not to part with a cent 
until he was sure the man was telling him the truth. 

The man was sitting in the library and did not 


172 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


rise when the Doctor entered the room but his first 
words were, “Have you got the cash? I gave you 
plenty of time.” 

“Now my fellow,” answered Dr. Cleverton, “I 
will not give you the money until after you have 
proven what you say to be true.” 

“You promised last night,” threatened the man 
who realized this morning that he was dealing with 
a different person. “I should have collected last 
night.” 

“You would have had a hard time doing that 
without smashing a bank,” declared the Doctor sar- 
castically. “Either you give me my wife’s address 
and I telegraph to see if it is O.K. or we’ll go to- 
gether to find her.” 

“You can’t telegraph her,” hissed the man who 
realized that he was up against it. “I guess you’ll 
have to have me as a traveling companion. I ain’t 
so averse to takin’ a trip.” 

“What direction are we to go ?” asked Dr. Clever- 
ton in a business-like way. He was not as calm as 
he looked. “I must find out about trains and buy 
the tickets.” 

“Are you goin’ alone with me?” snarled the man. 

“It’s none of your business how I am going,” re- 
torted the Doctor, “as long as you take me to the 
right place and get your price at the end of the 
journey.” 

“Well, all right then,” muttered the man angrily. 
“Chicago’s our first stop.” 

The Doctor stepped out of the room and calling 
the butler, cautioned him to do nothing during the 
day but keep his eye on the stranger in the library. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


173 


Then he became very busy arranging his trip. He 
decided that he would take the chauffeur with him 
for he was a very smart fellow and as bright as a 
whip and he felt that he would need a bodyguard 
when traveling with the gentleman he had just left. 
He was very sad at the thoughts of leaving his little 
girl. She might think he had gone to California 
without her. 

He found out that the next train would not leave 
until late that night. He had everything in good 
order by six o’clock in the evening and his suitcase 
was packed and stood in the middle of the room. 
His little girl danced around him and fretted be- 
cause she was not going along. She would not leave 
her daddy out of her sight for a minute. 

It was a bitter cold night. The wind howled un- 
mercifully around the house, wailing in sorrowful 
melody and whispering in plaintive tones. 

The Doctor sat alone waiting until it would be 
time to leave for the station. He wondered why he 
should feel so depressed when he hoped to find such 
a wonderful joy at the end of his journey. 

When he finally kissed his baby for the last time, 
he muttered a little prayer under his breath asking 
God that he might come safely back. The taxi was 
at the door and his chauffeur stood waiting with the 
suitcases. His supposed brother-in-law, who was 
eager to be started, was waiting in the automobile. 

The Doctor hurried down the steps without look- 
ing back. He gave the order to the driver and put 
his foot on the step of the machine. In an instant 
they would have been gone had not a voice inter- 
vened. 


,174 


JHE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


“You’re wanted at the ’phone, sir. It’s very im- 
portant message. I think it comes from your coun- 
try place.” 

“I can’t be bothered,” replied the Doctor jumping 
in. 

“Stop, sir,” pleaded the butler, “just for a minute, 
sir. It’s Mr. Hubbs and he says he has seen the 
ghost of your wife/' 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


It was just the hour when goblins and spirits are 
supposed to revel, when ghosts come forth from 
their grewsome tombs to visit familiar haunts, when 
all the air seems impregnated with a weird and un- 
canny stillness. It is an hour that is full of evil 
omen for the superstitious and everything seems 
imbued with an unusual significance. 

The fire burned low in the little kitchen of the 
Hubbs’ home. The wick burned low in the lamp. A 
little puff of wind rattled through the loose window 
pane causing the curtain to move slightly and cast 
dancing shadows on the walls. The shining pots 
and pans seemed to smile down wickedly upon the 
figure seated in front of the fire. It was Hezekiah 
Hubbs keeping his long vigil. Beside him stood a 
whiskey bottle almost empty, I am sorry to say, for 
Hezekiah had found it necessary to partake pretty 
often. For once he had been able to imbibe all he 
wanted. 

The hands of the grandfather’s clock were up- 
lifted and would soon strike the hour. In fact, even 
now, it began to rumble and with a clang it struck 
the hour of one. 

With a start Hezekiah sprang to his feet and 
seized his old blunderbuss standing in the corner 
with intent to pursue the demons who had been 
troubling his dreams, He looked about him in a 
175 


176 


[THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


dazed sort of way and slowly relaxed when he re- 
alized that he was within the walls of his own cot- 
tage. But look! Did not the door in yonder dark 
corner move slowly on its hinges? He took a firmer 
hold upon his weapon and moved stealthily in that 
direction. He would have to see what was behind 
the door. He reached the door — nothing happened 
— becoming suddenly brave, he seized the knob 
and gave it a violent jerk, and now indeed something 
did happen. Masses and masses of white stuff de- 
scended upon him, blinding and almost strangling 
him. Would it never stop. Terrified he dropped his 
gun which would have been useless under any cir- 
cumstances even to take a shot at a flour sack. Im- 
pelled by abject terror alone, he fled wildly, a streak 
of white, in the direction of his bedroom. 

Mrs. Hubbs was awakened from her slumber by 
the noise downstairs and when her eyes fell upon 
this ghostly white figure groping its way blindly 
towards her, they nearly popped out of her head. 
There was the banshee her “Heze” had seen and 
Heze had been right. Paralyzed with fright and 
trembling in every limb, she pulled the covering 
over her head hoping to shut out the awful sight. 

Dear knows how this tragedy would have ended 
if there had not been the toot of an automobile out- 
side. The figure in white disappeared and Mrs. 
Hubbs could hear the mingling of voices just be- 
low her. 

When Hezekiah came into the kitchen again, he 
had been able to dig the flour out of his eyes suffi- 
ciently to recognize Dr. Cleverton and to make out 
dimly the figures of two other men. 


,THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 177 

“What’s this?” asked Dr. Cleverton. “What’s 
the matter with you? Have you had an accident?” 

Hezekiah blinked and rubbed his eyes but just 
grinned in reply. 

The chauffeur laughed loudly and then apologized 
for his rudeness. 

“I’m afraid sir,” he said turning to the Doctor, 
“that poor Mr. Hubbs has had a battle with the 
flour bin.” 

“Well, brush the flour from Mr. Hubbs,” ordered 
the Doctor turning to the chauffeur. “We musn’t 
waste time. Let’s get started.” 

The chauffeur proceeded to help Mr. Hubbs and 
he could see that the poor old fellow was laboring 
under great excitement. 

With all rapidity the four men climbed into the 
machine and set off in the direction of the big house. 

Dr. Cleverton turned to Mr. Hubbs shortly. “Now 
Hubbs,” he said, “let’s have the whole story.” 

Mr. Hubbs by this time was wishing that he were 
sleeping soundly beside his wife instead of causing 
all this trouble. 

“Well, sir,” answered Mr. Hubbs doubtfully, 
scratching his head, “I can’t exactly say that I seen 
her but I heard her screaming and I knowed it was 
her.” 

Just as he finished saying this, the machine 
stopped with a jerk before the door. The four men 
became silent and not a word was spoken while 
they wended their way to the back of the house and 
waited until Hezekiah fished the cellar door key out 
of his pocket. 

The chauffeur brought along one of the lanterns 


178 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


from the automobile and the warmth of the cellar 
felt grateful to the men half numb and frozen from 
their long drive. They lingered for a few minutes 
before determining upon what course they would 
pursue. 

^ “Well, Pm going to make a thorough search of 
the house now,” the Doctor finally declared, taking 
the lantern in his hand. “I don’t think we had all 
better go. A couple of you can stand guard down 
in the cellar here and whichever one wishes to, may 
come with me.” 

He looked in surprise at the three men cowering 
before him. No one offered to accompany him and 
he realized that even his bloody brother-in-law who 
never feared to face the living trembled at the 
thoughts of meeting the spirits of the dead. 

“I’d best stay in the cellar, master,” questioned 
Hezekiah, “and tend to the light switch.” 

“Don’t fool with the lights, Hubbs, unless I call,” 
replied the Doctor as he started up the steps leading 
to the first floor. 

The three cowards huddled together in terror, 
watched the last flash of light from the Doctor’s lan- 
tern. Hezekiah groped about for the lamp he had 
dropped earlier in the evening and presently found 
it but after repeated efforts to light it, discovered 
that the oil was all gone. No one had anything to 
say and with one accord they filed into the furnace 
room to take advantage of the warmth and glow of 
the fire. 

When Dr. Cleverton reached the top of the steps 
he hesitated. He was not scared but he was very 
nervous. The place seemed so big and empty and 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


179 


so very dark. There were newspapers on almost all 
of the hardwood floors and as he stepped forward 
they crackled and rattled. He took his lantern and 
cast the light in all directions as he went carefully 
along. This place was full of haunting memories 
and everything that had happened here became so 
vivid before his eyes that at last he believed it to be 
haunted. He expected to have some form come out 
of the darkness at any instant and wondered why he 
was not thrilled with the frightful noise Hezekiah 
other he slowly ascended the steps. 

When he came into the front hall, he cast his light 
up the stairs doubtfully. Should he go back and ask 
one of the men to accompany him on this strange 
journey? He noticed that the papers on the steps 
had been very much disturbed but argued with 
himself that Mr. and Mrs. Hubbs might have done 
that sometime when they were going through the 
house. He felt in his back pocket and pulled out 
the little revolver his wife had always carried; He 
looked into it to see that it was well loaded and 
holding the light in one hand and the revolver in the 
other he slowly ascended the stairs. 

When he came to the top, he glanced in the direc- 
tion of the room where his cousin had been mur- 
dered. Had the awful specter who was roaming 
about this house come from that place? It would 
be natural to suppose that it would choose the room 
in which it had breathed its last. He was a brave 
man but why did he turn to the left instead of en- 
tering there? He stopped before going into his own 
room. He thought he could hear footsteps behind 
him. Yes, surely somebody was walking just below. 


180 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


What would he do? Again he listened; he could 
hear the paper rattling as somebody came cautiously 
up the front stairs. He stepped into his own room. 
He was excited. He blew out the wick of his lan- 
tern so as to be in complete darkness and he crept 
around on his hands and knees to the side of his bed, 
intending to use it as a shield. He knelt down as 
close as he 'possibly could, he was almost on his 
stomach. But as he crept slowly in between his 
baby^s bed and his own, there was a loud thud and 
something heavy fell over him. He jumped up in 
a panic of fear. His very hair stood on ends and he 
would have run screaming and yelling with terror 
from the room if he had not seen by the dim light, 
the dark figure of a man standing in the doorway. 
He had dropped his revolver in his fright but he had 
no time to think. A shot rang out. It whistled past 
his ear; half an inch nearer, it would have caused 
his instant death. Then the arm in the doorway 
was poised again but just as the silent figure pulled 
the trigger, it gave a muttered oath. There was a 
clatter as the revolver flew high in the air and landed 
in a far corner. Then there was a silent struggle 
between two men while the Doctor stood transfixed, 
with fear. 

Suddenly a light flashed on and what a strange 
sight. The chauffeur lay in a pool of blood which 
was dripping from a gash in his forehead. Pierre 
stood towering above him about to jump upon the 
man directly in front of him. It was Hezekiah 
Hubbs, but such a Hezekiah. Transformed as it 
were, he gazed unflinchingly at Pierre and held the 
loaded revolver pointed directly at the villian. 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


181 


*^No you don't,” laughed Hezekiah. “You stay 
where you are, you scallawag.” 

Dr. Cleverton felt himself reeling. He had hardly 
breathed for the last few moments and he had not 
dared look down at the thing at his feet but when 
he did, he gave a cry of agony. That poor mass of 
humanity which lay so still and rigid below him was 
the wasted form of his precious wife. He dropped 
to his knees and took her into his arms. There was 
no one to help him for Hezekiah could not leave his 
prisoner. He lifted her onto the bed as gently as he 
could. He thought she was dead. He pressed his 
face to hers and kissed her hands in a frantic way. 
He felt her pulse and put his ear to her heart. He 
laughed and sobbed alternately when he realized that 
there was a slight spark of life left still. 

The two men in the middle of the floor neither 
moved nor spoke until there was a clatter of feet 
and the ponderous form of Mrs. Hubbs appeared in 
the doorway. She looked at her husband and then 
screamed. 

“Drop that gun ! You’ll be killing someone, then 
you’ll be taken for murder.” 

“Shut your mouth,” screeched Hezekiah just as 
loud. “Help me round this man up or get gone.” 

Mrs. Hubbs could scarcely get her breath, her 
heart was palpitating so much from her hurried trip. 
She looked at the unconscious figure on the floor and 
realized for the first time that her “Heze” was the 
hero of the occasion. But when she glanced at the 
Doctor she knew in an instant that there was some- 
thing more serious here than she had expected at 
first. 


182 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


She went over to the bed and she almost fainted 
when she recognized the young missus lying so still 
and white there. 

‘‘Help me help me !” called Dr. Cleverton. “She’s 
alive.” 

The chauffeur by this time had come to life and 
was sitting up looking around in a dazed way. 
Hezekiah shook him roughly. 

“We’ll tie this feller up,” he ordered the poor half 
dead man as he pointed to Pierre. “We must help 
the Doctor, his wife’s come alive again.” 

Three hours later Cleverhill was ablaze with 
lights. Doctors from the city were being rushed 
down and Mrs. Hubbs was in charge of the room 
where her poor young missus hung between life 
and death. Dr. Cleverton was completely unnerved. 
He knelt by the bedside, half the time talking to the 
unconscious form as though it understood every- 
thing he was saying. He pressed his lips to hers 
again and again and prayed that she might return 
to consciousness just long enough to give him one 
look of love. 


chapter xxiy. 


A week later. 

It was the hour of sundown when all the world 
seems to pause to take a breath before struggling on 
once more. The snowflakes were falling gently cov- 
ering the earth with their soft white down and the 
trees seemed to quiver with joy as they gradually 
became clothed in beautiful white robes. It was 
just the kind of a twilight which imbues one with a 
sense of peace and good will to men. When one 
loves to sit near the end of the day when all seems 
far away and hazy and watch the tiny clouds scurry- 
ing away as though in a hurry to get home. Then 
the earth is given a last caress, a last fond look by 
the disappearing sun who touches them gently with 
sleep and bids them gently to rest until he comes 
next morning to waken them. 

When the first bright stars come shyly into the 
heavens, one longs to linger and dream in the dim 
peaceful light, which follows the afterglow of the 
sinking sun. Why should we cling to this sad old 
earth when Heaven smiles down upon us from above 
and promises riches and glory which we never could 
hope for here. 

When all seemed so calm and still outside, within 
the large house at Cleverhill there lay a soul strug- 
gling with the old, old-fashioned Death, lingering 
183 


184 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


until it would be carried swiftly away by the night 
birds hovering about. The pale wasted form was 
propped up with many pillows upon the snowy white 
bed. Mrs. Cleverton lay in her own room and in her 
own bed at last. She was so weak that she could 
scarcely move her hand but her eyes were wide 
awake and her cheeks flushed with happiness. A 
nurse in a white uniform stood at a respectful dist- 
ance and Dr. Cleverton sat always by the bed, never 
leaving for an instant if he could help it. Mrs. Clev- 
erton had asked that the lights should not be turned 
on until it would be absolutely necessary. She liked 
to watch the tiny flakes as they passed the window 
and the nurse drew the curtains back so that she 
might see them better. 

There was a silent communion of souls between 
^hese two. There was no necessity to speak, no need 
of explanations. Their hearts were touched and 
softened by their sorrow and happiness, and the 
warm glow of an everlasting love washed away the 
stains which had spoiled their lives. 

*Tt^s lovely, dear,” she murmured gently, ‘'that I 
can die this way.” 

He answered her with a sob. 

‘T shall go forth to meet the shadowy future,” 
she whispered in a low sweet voice, “so happy now.” 
She softly stroked the hair from his forehead, then 
sank back with weariness and closed her eyes. 

The nurse stepped forward and begged her not to 
talk too much. In a few minutes she continued. 

“It is an exquisite and beautiful thing to lie here 
and gaze at the far off heavens where I am going 
so soon.” 


THE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


185 


The Doctor took her hand and showered it with 
kisses. “Please don’t,” he begged piteously. “I can 
stand no more.” 

She would have uttered some word of love and 
courage, some thought which would accompany him 
through the lonely years, but her lips could only 
tremble and her eyes fill with tears. 

The Doctor pulled out his handkerchief and 
brushed his eyes lightly. 

“If you could only live,” he murmured gently, 
“nothing else would matter.” 

She smiled faintly. “I am' so thankful,” she 
breathed, “to be granted these few hours to bid you 
farewell. I want this last day with .my loved ones to 
be happy. I feel that we are coming to the time of 
separation. Let us linger tenderly over each pre- 
cious moment.” 

He started as she uttered the last words. He 
could scarcely catch their meaning they were spoken 
so low. He called the nurse and bade her bring the 
baby. He could not speak but she read the meaning 
in his eyes. He put his arm beneath his wife and 
laid her head on his shoulder and she looked at him 
in mute adoration and then through the window at 
the swiftly changing sky. The music of childhood 
seemed to fill the room which was touched by silence 
and sunset. He pressed his lips to her forehead just 
as little Alma tiptoed into the room. He lifted her 
onto the bed and she pressed her tiny lips to her 
mother’s for the last time. There was a gurgling 
groan and all was over. 

Dr. Cleverton still continued to hold her in his 
aching arms, his heart full of hidden agony. He 


186 


JHE UNPARDONABLE SIN 


breathed words of love and tender devotion, hoping 
that she still could hear him. 

Finally, he laid her gently back, hot tears in his 
eyes and a painful wedge in his throat. He took his 
child in his arms and left the chamber of death. 













* 

> I • 





. ' > 


i 

t. 



♦ 







t' .IS ' ■'«’ 


tess's- 

V I 'Iv '"a^. A <■'. • ■ ’ • ■ 


». W.* >A. ,* . 


; I ^,v-\r. 

1 1 . % * 

f^cV' ' . 's 




.? • 4 . » . 




I ■ 


y . • 


I • < • • I 4 * 

hof- ,/ 


" • 

r- 1 # {• 7 

•V* X** . ■/ ' ',' ' 

M> w».’> ♦■-• ••>•■. 

WiTf. " -I . • 


: . 


V 


f v 


/Vi ‘ 


, u 


Ir- 


^ •» *1 • 




\ > 


•X i; 


t •» 


'♦ . 


\ 


^tVV 


V* •> SjA-/ ' '* '- 

C>/ >5* ' »' '\ \ ' . • 

rf "' >s'’‘V*' - \ ■ .■ 

* k^/- \ ' '.. ^ ‘.S ^ * »• . • A 

XaiX^xA ' .Sf'v.'!.-^ .:.... ■; ' 






■ '. • k ' V, . , •. i'/. i, 

' ' Am..' * ', » 

V , ' i • • I ' /» 'T • . , r»] 

‘ ’ *;' ■ ^ / ^.i\ •* ■ < 


i 


v;- 

V' - 


( , 




V 


I »■ 


■..".vs. 




S-*’ ''‘Jl 

. '-■ 

'. * va 




j . 


■s' ' ) 

•'V 


I. 


ft I 


■ '■ ■ 

•', . xi 

■' -'SSl 


•. i* '« 


Y 

' A',: 




' • r- \xM 


.'A 


> s vi 


... 

‘*^J1 


« . k 4 
‘ ' . L ' / '► '*•1 

r .. I H .’ 


r 


... I , !• . ’ V 

rriXm 

■ ■ 

;. .. ' K 

: X ' 

'■*' ' .. . 

' '* ' ,' 

. 

S'SVMi 




.V 


■r ‘-H 


' Xy: X;X;M 

■' 'X-xXx:m 
‘ .-^v ' 

■ w. >' . .* V-! 


< ' i 


, > ' - V. ''' '*.1 

* ^ W. / 




V,,.' 

■ '. .v.'.-- r=;v. ■ ■ ' > ''f s 

'Vi''' ^ '■ ! ■". ■ ' ■ i V^lVV^viVfe'l 




“i A f 






\..s 


> \ 


: s 




' -■■ >; 


v> 


f 









































